I once asked about halations, and wondered what they were;
If they did at all exist, for once.
How they'd appear only in blurry and unfocused pictures;
Or perhaps at times, still and expectant on the verge of our tears?
Now the question:
"What makes a halation?" And if we're thinking of the same thing.
So I then wrote about halations, and tried to make (believe) sense—
of what they were (not) portraying.
I spoke of their lucidity amongst all others;
of their ever-curious charm,
and of their picturesque whims—
yet denied them a photograph; and opt for another.
Hence was said:
"More than a picture; a metaphor."
In other words: are we thinking of the same thing?
With it, I'll once again talk about halations, and wonder where they are;
Wonder when they might appear.
If the lights still scatter after—
and on the far side: if they would cast the same fair shades then.
Here I quote:
"For every shot taken is merely a remnant of the most beautiful."
I will speak of the light; and without doubt—
be thinking of a different someone.
— The End —