A farewell to the familiar, rosy light

that sifted through the channels of my heart.

And you were the sun that cast it upon me,

and I was the shadow that crept close behind. 

Though once,

I threw my palm to the sky.

Arched my dusty wings and bent my knees.

Like an Icarus to the sun I soared,

into that,

pink light. 

And the burn of it crept through each of my nerves,

like fire creeping through the roots of a tree.

My skin blistered,

my heart shriveled,

yet still, I refused to die.

Here now I sit,

no longer a blaze of glory, 

but a humble servant to your rosette light. 

Yet night always falls and the sun always dies.

The sun,

it always dies.