I reached the sun, but it never touched me.
Too close to burn, too far to freeze.
Mercury spins—chained to a path,
never still, never home.

I have held the fire, but my hands are empty.
The gold I chased turned to dust in my grip.
I have seen the heights, but never stopped to breathe.
What was I running from? What was I running to?

The silence should be peace, but it isn’t.
The weight should be gone, but it lingers.
I have everything, yet nothing holds me back.
No shadows, no echoes—only motion.

I turn. The stars do not follow.

Was I gazing at the stars, a starry night?
Blinded by their distant light.
The sand lay cold—like her touch,
Yet the night was warm, comforting as such.

Blurry mind, sunken heart,
Hurt so long it no longer scars.

I am cold,  and the pyre is burning,
Fists clenched, eyes glistening.
The fear of emptiness lingers near,
Nothing to hold, nothing to hear.

Drifting, drifting, still drifting.