After a great shrinkage,
In the depths of the tunnel,
When you can't see what's at the end,
Or outside, or beyond,
The world's a dark place.
Have you seen a firework,
Spring from the dark,
Smashing through the shell of the tunnel,
Which looked so solid,
Revealing light, and sound, and colour?
They can be small
Easy to see
And ignore
And forget
But I've noticed something
When you watch them,
When you let them fly,
And peer through the hole,
More and more come exploding through,
In a plethora of symphony and colour.
Did you know, you can light them yourself?
Fumbling around in the dark, you'll stumble across the lighter.
It may take some time,
But you'll find a wick too.
It may not even light, but the next one might.
The hole is a cruel form of torture for a while,
Teasing images of joy and wonder and curiosity.
But one day,
The hole will be big enough to walk through.