For the real beauty lays in the postponed blast that shakes the eardrum,
not in the false luminescence on a dark sky.
Because the sparkles fade a little too quickly,
after becoming a spectacular mirage.
They draw you in with an enticing display,
but before you blink they fizzle into an ombre disappearance.
Except the worst part is that they don't even say goodbye.
They just go.
And they never look you in the face again.
The hanging explosion of sound is the brave one.
For at least it has the decorum to give affirmation to it's beholder,
that the whole show was tangible and real;
that it truly did happen;
that maybe you weren't crazy for feeling something while staring into that kind of light.
Most thing in life don't have that kind of decency.
Most things just leave you drowning all the nothingness.