Fireworks
Fireworks
Dark night, people gather
droves flock, multitudinous
happy hope filled faces.
Young, shoulder borne
before lapping water, curved sails, coat hanger.
Dimples and shining eyes turned skyward.
Pointing gesticulating laughter
fellowship. Distraction from conversation,
a stillness, dimming, silence, initial salvos.
Awed serenity on the ground
fire and thunder,
artistic creation in the sky,
rivaling nature, showing her up.
Sunsets have no volume nor physical impact,
are not so concentrated or glamorous.
Your transitions take too long dear lady.
I have no patience and only see
mundanity in your sunlight,
your water and turning leaves,
your works lack volume and color.
Lift your skirts and begone old lady!
This universal appeal and fascination
with shock wave sound and
incandescence on dark skies.
One of modern man's decreasing worships,
Reverence.
What remains, albeit briefly? Smell
of powder, smoke drifting dissipating,
a fleeting memory dances on retina.
This is not a Great Wall, rather, a Babel
which collapses and is borne away.
Could these firework displays
reveal something of man?
The irony of such beauty
created with fire and destruction
seems perverse ...
a definition of humanity.
Some stupendous lesson eludes me.
©T.Arnold
Copyright © Tim Arnold | Year Posted 2017
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