On the street,

In the sky,

In their eyes –

Each of theirs;

Those that left it

And those who did not.

Gaze fixed –

not at the little

flickering lights in the sky

born naturally;

Those big bright balls of burning

gaseous dust.

But on the other ones;

(Some freeing, some free)

Glowing, glaring colours –

Red, yellow, orange,

Green, pink

And so many more.

Wind blows;

Cool sea breeze

feeds the fire.

Paper is flattened;

folds flared;

the wire entwined

supporting a block of

solid slippery wax.

He comes with a match;

excitement, eagerness,


(No festivity)

Just plain happiness

of being alive;

of being in presence

of all that’s existent;

A surge of energy

and fitful laughter

as the air fills in

pulling it upwards.

The paper resists

its holder’s hands

Slipping off;




They are not merely lanterns;

Filling spaces in the air.

They are a thousand secret wishes

Floating everywhere.

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