~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.
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