Arcing fireworks light the sky as rainbows of starlight.
Your fire-words are fireworks that light up my nights.
"We are the fireworks in this velvet dark, the blaze that dares to light up the night."
The fireworks are chaos and predictability - their explosive gifts finding their own time and space to own. As they do, I am the spectator, the one seeing their blazing trails arc above. There's something about them that warms me even in the cold, as if their stray sparks passed into my blood.
I always wanted to draw rainbows in the dark, hold pencils of pure light, I guess that's why I love fireworks so. As we head out together with the stars all around, a blanket for this planet that's half asleep, half awake, I'm already imagining their colours, cradling a box of matches in my hand.
Fireworks come as God's own graffiti.
Tell me of the rainbows, tell me of the dark, tell me of the lit and burning firework spark, for I yearn for are the colours, all I need is the light, and in this way I will ever extinguish my fright.
Firework spark come own the dark, come own my heart, come press start.
Fireworks, ensemble of black heaven's art, come tell the night of your bright dreams, come tell them to my heart, for I was born to live through colour.