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The Firework
January 8, 2019
Blankness, blackness, anticipating night
Eager people cry out, “Here comes a light!”
So starts my life, triumphant beginning.
I streak for the heights, a trail glistening.
Cresting, I explode into radiance.
Aweing my gasping, pointing audience.
But now my sparks are gone, used, dead—
People turn, look elsewhere, ahead.
As I flicker down, hopeful flight over,
I ask, “Was that truly all I strove for?”
© Michael D., Hawthorne, NY
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This piece is about putting all one's effort into attracting the notice and admiration of others instead of oneself, and in the end, how futile and unfulfilling that can be.