On my way home from the bus stop, a sizeable family congregated in the parking lot setting off a varIEty of firecrackers and
Fireworks. The ground and sky, about a hundred feet above, were covered with explosions while the smoke of burnt gunpowder drifted into every inch of the cool night air. I wonder if the Gaza strip during the Israeli bombings looked like this, or if the skies over Beirut were ever this bright! But that is war, and this, peace; that resulted in the deaths of many, while this warranted happiness from its participants and observers alike; that is in a time of grIEve, and this a time of celebration. I stopped to watch the display, not out of fear, nor awe, but instead, lost in a deep contemplation – a question as to why so many are drawn to the flickering light and momentary sound produced by this pyrotechnics display. A flicker, a bang; a Flash…
All for a moment’s glory –
To dazzle; to awe;
To live; to dIE;
A lifetime in the abyss of nonexistence,
Only a fraction of a fraction of a second…
If that.
An eternity of silent obscurity
For
A split-second of brilliance.
A memory imprinted.
To live fast and dIE young.
Ended in glorious fame,
Like Lord Byron or Yue Fei.
Never failing to decrepit old age;
Never aware of criticism or doubt;
Never able to look back,
As we all look back
And see,
A cloud of smoke
From a life just spent
Fading away
In the cold winter night
Replaced by another
Flicker, Flash and bang.
Another life explodes,
Drowning their predecessors. (Any suggestions from my frIEnds on how to improve this poem, this stream of consciousness, would be appreciated.)