The Festival of Lights
As the sun set, the sky blushed a deep red. A few clouds floated far above, but soon the greying sky gave in to darkness. Stars twinkled here and there. Not for long. Fireballs set by young kids with eager eyes went higher and higher, hoping to reach the moon and beyond. The sky seemed to be a bouquet of exotic flowers. Blue, red, yellow, green, they were all there, flashing in their moment of glory and then disappearing to the void, even as you scanned the vastness of the cosmos.
Down below, fiery trees grew, bloomed for a moment and fell back. The eyes of happy people reflected the bright twinklers and sparklers they were holding. There were trains of fire, wheels of fire, dragons of fire. And there was the soft fire, flickering in the oil lamps that bedecked the houses. The earth was afire, the sky, aglow. The flames, as they danced in their plasma, personified the fleetingness of life, the randomness in which we are all born, live, and die away to nothingness.
This file created: 26/Oct/2003