Geometry of a vanished flame

The night opens, and from it a bloom of light unfurls. Blue and gold radiate outward, thin lines of heat suspended in air, their movement arrested mid-flight. The centre glows faintly, pulsing against the void, while each filament stretches toward silence. No horizon remains, no ground for comparison—only this sudden order against infinite black. The explosion becomes delicate in its stillness, almost tender.

Colour reshapes the darkness. The blue cools the edges of gold; the gold warms the centre of blue. The two are inseparable, the dialogue between heat and calm. Each strand fades as it travels, as though burning its own path into forgetfulness. The eye follows the symmetry outward, then back again, tracing light’s slow retreat into night. What begins as spectacle ends as structure.

Stay with the photograph, and it ceases to be about fireworks at all. It becomes a meditation on vanishing—the way brightness defines itself by surrendering. Every streak is a timeline, every spark an argument against permanence. The frame captures not the blast, but the echo of it—the quiet geometry of what light leaves behind once the sound is gone.