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.