fire(works)

Tonight,

on my balcony,

I watched the shards of a hundred different-colored stars explode,

 and scatter,

and fade.

I did this alone—

well…with a glass of rosé.

I’d like to tell you I was brave—

that the myths and the muses will sing of me—

that there are tales of battles with Hydras, and centaurs, and the river gods.

I’d like to tell you it was more than “I was alone”—

like that’s some golden feat.

And I was.

And it was.

But mostly—

it was beautiful.

Not because life is right.

Not because I have it all figured out.

Not because I believe the manifestations I chant endlessly.

Maybe it's just because it was Independence Day.

And I sat there—

independent,

on my balcony,

with rainbow ash.

Not proving anything.

Not less.

Not more.

Just me—

watchin’ fireworks.