~Fireworks~

Ah, my old friend,
your fireworks are a wondrous sight
streaking the night with wanton paints,
sky-gardens, fire-serpents, gold feathers,
purple tears, silver spiders, stained snowflakes,
spinning rubies, fluttering stars,
toys of flame and fizzling candies
reflected in upturned eyes
above the gasping mouths
and clapping hands
of young and old alike.
How it gladdens my old heart
to revel in these temporal gems
ere I declare my independence
and take my leave
and seek my freedom
in realms unknown
above the stifling ground!
If only I could take them
with me, these final gifts
splattered on the darkness
above, to brighten my path
and my declining years
to come. 

But then perhaps
I've something better still:
the more enduring beauty
of that which I leave behind
the sweet glory of eyes
that watch my receding steps
with fond and wistful pride;
the knowledge that a splendid being
may smile after me with warmer strength
when I am far away
and tread a finer path
and wear these spangled colors
with lasting joy and wisdom
in his blooming soul.
I leave him in your keeping
with the hope that
the slivered spectrum of true freedom
which is the fruit of earnest striving
will prove his deliverance
from the tunnels of grey sleep
and he will hear the music
of unchained possibility
until we both do rise in the night
and burst with our own fullness
above the upturned face
of Eternity.