I like the word reminiscent.
Like an echo of a quondam.
Events that very likely happened
But are inevitably vanishing.
Passions still light the night
And northern lights wave in a psychedelic sky.
Is it reality or just a faint dream?
Once we lived on that bluish dot,
Covered with trees, down the Galaxy
Where the breeze danced with the sea
And just music could lull thoughts.

Perhaps after a Big Crunch and a new Big Bang,
With a little patience;
We might all be Revenants.

“So this is a good bye.”