There was more than one sparkle that left
the fountain by Cyrene,
a flood that flew into the sky, dozens of birds,
with wings and things, a signed bin
of love bursting, happy, wild, an asylum

Of yours eyes, delirious with the brightest of colours,
the deepest of blues, the sky that married the ocean
and danced, and danced,
spinning like the sun that built a mirror
in my chest that shone like dunes
of sand melting clear as glass

There were songs, too, so many, sung alone,
sung with two, atop that hill,
with my eyes, my words, I was careful
like threads and blankets, careful as song,
Oh, it was both beyond and within me,
Wishing you to sing for the as you want,
and sing free

You are far now.
You are far.
Every day, and night, and second, I remember
playing memories over and over, as I do with all,
my ghosts, my friends, my family,
lest I forget in the centuries that befriend us.
I would never. You are near. It was a promise

To hear your song still.
To hear the songs of all.
Your music, my friend,
Dear starling.

Penned by my hand on the 8th of Valnuary, in the year 992 AF.