If there ever existed the need for explaining things, correctly accounting for them, I would compare myself to a firework. That's what I exactly feel. Scattering light, leaving in the form of all small particles. My history reminisces of sparkles through a path of blueness.Do you know what does slowing down mean to a firework? Anxiety of a never told prophecy, embodied in the very nature of itself.
Each glowing particle is a seed in the endless earth of the skies. But I am running slow and out of matter. I am surrounded by darkness and soon, very soon, I will reach that critical moment, as the fire will hit the core.
People look and get enthusiastic. What they see is a light blow in the dark skies of the night.
They find meanings that they choose. Like the way they believe what they want. And they will never care about the firework up there. It is a situation of burning in the end.
There is no pleasure in being a firework. Not in the ground. Not in the sky. Yet giving light is something to take pride. No matter what it costs. Surely there is... Eventually we all burn out.
And that's the reason for explaining. To lighten what is beyond the lights.
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