The crackling comes first.
millions of tiny explosions,
slipping
and building onto one another,
dressing the clouded air
with unseen movement;
depth.
Then, the sparks,
sputtering.
Slowly at first, and then all at once.
Fusing themselves into the heavens.
Forging a pathway for wandering souls,
lost.
Licks of flame rising up,
up into a
dusky grey horizon.
Hesitant to arouse the languid slumber,
a cadmium globe,
totters across its
streaming canvas.
Illuminating what was once obscure.
It travels, but never strays.
remaining eternally unmoved,
lifeless.
Crumbling with each breezy gust.
Exploding silently
within itself.
Leaving only a faint
crackling.