A tracer of sound,
In it's own way as bright as any firecracker,
Weaves it's way ferociously through the silence

At it's heart the pulsing vibration grows ever larger,
Smashing the darkness,
Shattering the silence,
Until suddenly it shines no more

And where once the lonely sprite stood,
Remains naught but a memory,
But a memory as bright and powerful as the tracer itself,
That weaves it's way through our minds and is lodged there,

Forever.