Jar of wishes

You lie hidden somewhere within my jar of wishes, buried in the layers where the old dreams lie, in the detritus of fading, failing things: between the faltering shine of foreign coins, of silent stained marbles and broken immobile toys, within a collage of dated stamps, old movie tickets and dented badges. I have built buildings and planes upon this foundation of lost limbs and other half-constructed things, and in the crowded troposphere of my jar, cities breathe and blink. But you are the pattern of my dreams, the twinkle of the constellations that continue to glimmer and glow, though the lights in the cities may be slowly fading, the marbles losing their lustre and the coins their gleam — even as those dreams go out one by one, like fireflies in a jar.