Death awakened me and it was like a handshake in pale light. I felt the immediate reverberation of a dismal fleck of starlight harangued in the glossy aether.
   To pass away meant passing by. The painter wipes the last of the blue hues on his apron, the weathered book clasps shut, I see a dog running and a fountain trickle down a path to my home. Somewhere I've never been, but always remembered.