Fireworks

Darkness and emptiness, quiet and calm,

Filled with the light of a bright single star.

Soul's joyful silence, smashed as by a bomb, when

Shouting and motion release from afar

A bright whistling rocket far into the sky.

Booming and banging, a laser parade—

Bright colored beams try to fill empty space.

It entertains me, yet seems to be made

Of nothing but fluff: a vanity chase—

No more than rockets fired into the sky.

Colors and flashes and booming of noise—

Stars blotted out by the fireworks' bright spray.

All of these colors, explosions, and toys,

Taking the role that the stars ought to play.

Can we not see? We truly must try, for

They're only bright rockets fired into the sky.