Blowing like wind,
a lonely sojourner
travels westward
toward the sinking sun.
I witness brilliant azure skies
splinter from red-orange
to the darkest pitch.

No accolades will greet me
where I am now going,
only beginnings,
a chance to create new stars
in a tempest.

And when you look up
at the sacred twinkling-lights,
feel the cool-breeze on your face,
it will be me.