Illuminate

I pretend that I can feel
the heat of the sparkler in my hand
even though the flame is six inches away. 
I run from the doorway 
into the backyard, 
quickly, 
but the light is gone before I'm even 
halfway there. 

I can't see 
as well as I could before, 
but the stars above my head
guide me back. 

The flame waxes and wanes 
like the moon
when I hold a new sparkler to it, 
the melted wax of the citronella candle
pooling around the wick. 
Yet, it will not be extinguished, 
and soon the sparkler is
sparking in my hand. 

I run from the porch to the street
this time, 
down the stretch of sidewalk to the cool asphalt. 
It has cooled, under the stars, 
and it doesn't hurt my bare feet to dance
in the middle of it. 
The street is closer than the backyard, 
and I wave the sparks in the air for longer than before. 
I wave the stick even after
the light has gone out
because the quiet street is well lit. 

Even under the trees, 
there are street lamps. 

Even at night, 
there are stars. 

Even in the dark, 
there is light. 

The light doesn't always go out.