Fireworks (poem)

The canvas of my mind is dark like the night sky.
There are stars and planets that faintly dot the darkness with points of light
Occasionally, the moon comes up, in a variance of one of its cycles, and casts a soft glow over everything.

But that's not what I want.

What I want are fireworks.
I want explosions of color to paint my sky, different and unique bursts of light and shapes cascading and spiraling and painting vibrant pictures that tell stories.

I don't want my life to be another night panged with anticipation. Another bland night where I watch the sky, just hoping for something to happen.

No. I'm ready to take action. And if I have to strike the match and light the fuse myself, I will.




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