blinked

To see this rises
So far, so fast, and so high
And then collapses.

What would we do
When their development put them at the height,
The peak of time, but afterwards they fall?

Why should we be subject,
Born to stream the air, a rocket that
Explodes and shimmers afterwards

But like a whimper that,
The music and the firework fade,
Is forgotten--crowds dispersed?

What can we tie to remember this,
The magic of the moment, but something happening
That stays there, makes it not like the others?

Why should we be subject
Not to age gracefully, mildly reaching the plateau
But to be defeated by something

As insubstantial as Aurora Borealis?
For that thing that lights the sky
Lights it forever, lit it before me, and will light it after me

With or without me. Only me is needed
To recognize this, to be silenced
By this, the months of existence

Blinked.