I would
Cite the sources
Of the sights we saw, the
Kites sited on the south sea,
The lights
From the starts which lit
The surroundings of our lives, the
Luster in living
From sea to coast to city
With only the
Sails and
Seals for our company, the
Sensation of being lost
In the surreal hills and
Limitless mountains
Of us,
Were it not that
The source of my sadness now
Was not the very same
Which made
The kites fly higher,
The starts burn brighter, and
The sea seem endless.