Between sunrise and sunset,
I don’t know what draws me closer.
The thought that now will eventually be
then or that my then, can never be now
again. You see, I’ve made too many mistakes
to let one slip again, so I’d like to turn back the clock.
I want to take a jar and fill it with my mistakes,
like fireflies, trapped for their own good. But now,
its too late for these lightning bugs. But even caged bug refuse to be
anything less than shining and bright. They were once closer,
to God and good, and forgiveness, closer than I was. So now,
I let these fireflies go, I can’t keep them here.
If I did, they would die an unholy death, haunting me.
So I’ll release them, in the time where they can clearly be seen:
a time between sunset and sunrise.