Pyrotechnic Life

gunpowder and a chemical mixture
flaring bright across the sky
a dance of sparks
lighting up the night

we sit upon a hilltop blanket
entranced by the display
only speaking again when
the acrid smoke dissipates
and the ringing in our ears ceases

I’ve seen this from above
as well as below
it’s much quieter at 30,000 feet
perhaps eerily so

the explosive sounds which
correspond fall silent from up above
and perhaps this also mutes
the emotional impact

and I wonder at the definitions
explosive display of brilliance,
anger, or energy…
versus gunpowder and combustible chemicals

aren’t we, afterall, combustible?
we burn bright and fizzle out in the end
all our anger, passion, and energy
at once spent, wafting through the air
as the sulfuric smell lingers on the wind
the pyrotechnics of life




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