Fireballs and Lorelei
as I look up into the night sky the fireworks shoot arcs of red, blue and white and as they find their full ascent the rosey fireballs reach out in an atomic split of lightening; traversing in every direction in the height of their beauty. The gulf between light and dark is closed and they’re gone.
turning towards the faint humming fluorescence of the city Heine’s words light up:
Ich weiß nicht, was soll es bedeuten,
Daß ich so traurig bin;
Ein Märchen aus alten Zeiten,
Das kommt mir nicht aus dem Sinn.
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