The Grave of the Fireflies

The Autumn of Terror rings the bell,

For once, then twice, nobody

Ever responds. As if amateur daggers

Conceal themselves in the fog,

Awaiting. Hold your breathe

For nothing, but a ray of sunlight.

Every breeze, grows into crystallized ice,

Can freeze nothing, but your soul.

The rays turn vague, gradually pass

Their burden to the moonlight shade.

A starless night accompanied by

Mermaid’s lullaby. The journey just ends.

Out the cabin, come the fireflies’

Belated greetings. Fruit candies,

Marshmallow castle, rainbow fountain -

Playful laughters echo, echo, and echo.

As if hypnotized by

mesmerizing melody, sleepwalking.

Out the paradise, welcomes the swirly

Black hole. Ravens croak,

Bats mobilize. The misconceived

Sirius, soon clouded over.

Here,

Everything is illusive.

Your senses are no longer

Reliable.

The sparks of light are

Long gone. They are awaiting -

Awaiting the next off-track cabin

To sink.

The Grave of the Fireflies is a free-verse blues poem that possesses illusive imagery, highlighting the mysterious theme of death. Although fireflies shines our way in darkness, they are short-lived, just like any other beautiful creatures. The motif of supernaturalism and paradox insightfully present the sudden, intense of fear one undergoes when facing death. Indeed, allusion is another frequent literary technique next to motif. The Autumn of Terror, like the bloody age when London overwhelmed by Jack the Ripper, guides the lost souls into a seeming paradise by mermaids, whose hypnotic melody can easily control lost minds. Sirius, the brightest star in universe, soon clouded over by ominous creatures – death is not far ahead.