Fireworks (For the lonely one)

New year eve.
You are quiet,
in the midst of the woofers and whisky,
gazing through
the intoxicating haze,
to somewhere,
where the sun is blue and the night sky,
starless.

New year dawn
and the children are dancing
the hard music of the spirits.
You are pointing
to the sky,
seeking light,
asking questions.

What will we see
in the last bit
of the mirage of our breaths,
after these indurating storms,
when the last thread
of moonlight
departs from our eyes,
when
we see the harmattan no more?

Crouched at the shrine,
you are probing the dead gods
for answers.
Why are we sent here
only to die?

Why are we invited
to suckle
the ripe breasts of life, yearly,
yet, we see only
the undying rays
of the blue sullen sun?

Why us, why not the others?

The tear drops wet your alter.

Why is your brother among the dancing group
while you are crouched with grizzled priests?

Why is your role the sad one, like Anthonio's?
You the handsome one; you the envied one?

You are gazing through      
the intense fireworks,
through the thick laughter and dancing,
asking questions bereft of answers,
looking for things
you'll never find.

The fireworks gets more intense and,
the drums of the spirits beat harder.

The new year, like a falcon,
comes swooping in.