A faulty screen allowed the firefly
to make his way, one night, into my room.
After a bit of daze, and questions why,
about the chamber he began to zoom
Soon enough he found the glass mirror’s shine
and gamely studied his reflection there.
Did he see someone equally as fine?
Or only a rival’s repugnant stare?
We know ourselves when our image we see
and grasp, a bit, how the science works.
But do we like our twin, this devotee?
Or see only our blemishes and marks?