Flakes of sunbeam,
falling like the stars,
flooding the serenity.

Proof that life has existed before I did.
Proof that stories have their truths.
Proof that I will take a piece of each place with me,
and proof that I will give each a piece back.

Proof that long after I’m gone,
I will still float among the stars,
flailing about in a beautiful cascade
of silence. Becoming ugly. Yet,
in the even faintest glow of light,
I will cover everything,
a melody of which only I
remember.