Flakes of sunbeam,

falling like the stars,

flooding the serenity.

Proof that life has existed before I did.

Proof that stories have their truths.

Proof that I will take a piece of each place with me,

and proof that I will give each a piece back.

Proof that long after I'm gone,

I will still float among the stars,

flailing about in a beautiful cascade

of silence. Becoming ugly. Yet,

in the even faintest glow of light,

I will cover everything,

a melody of which only I

remember.