A light. A follicle in the darkness.
But not enough for life, yet.
I’m walking towards it, but it
Grows fainter under my watch.
My mother said she could see me with little
Boys, like little suns, tiny stars, their own
Planets rolling about the sky, their sky, with
Me a moon, but a moon, smaller now, but
Gripped by them, in their orbit circling them
For the rest of my life and out beyond it
Into the blankness of their lives unlived yet,
To outlive my light, to bounce off my rock
When it is dead, when it is simply a reflection