You are the sun and the moon,
The stars and the dark of night.
You are the salt spilled across the sky from years ago that they forgot about.
You are the light that beams from the sun
Delicate and powerful, you mean well but you burn just the same

But you are not the blackness that fills an empty room
Nor the harsh lights of the hospital,
Nor the linoleum floors that squeak with scuff marks from too much rush.
You've never been too much rush.

I firmly believe that you are the fireworks
The straight lines that explode into showers of unexpected sparks
Piercing the air with your cries
Similarly, you are the fire, warm and inviting,
Lapping your silver tongues across the rough fuel
Setting it alight, making it glow until it is black as the night you came from

You are the flame, flickering atop the candle
Dancing in the production of your own light
Until someone or something causes you to waver and fall
Collapsing into a deep gray mist, lingering in the air for hours
A memory that stings my eyes when I breathe.

I am the adrenaline that courses through your veins in times of distress
But also the lethargy pulling at the corners of your mind when you haven't slept
I am the wind, whispering nostalgia into your ears, trying to remind you that I'm still here
I am the dance your shadow does when you're asleep,
The feather that your parents always warned you not to pick up
I am the blanket of snow that lulls the world into a wintry sleep
And the orange street lamps that stand guard against a silent night.
But you are, and always will be, the sun, the moon,
The stars, and the blissful dark of night.