Anchors slip away in a sea, calmed by nightly solitude.   A puff of wind, eases a bedroom shade open.   A flake of dust, drifts alone, gently on. 

What remains of my sun? Clouds, facades of the high skies, obscuring mirrored daystars of my eyes!   There toy are in my sky, whirling in tears in the wind. I want to reach up and grab hold of you.   I see the two searing-white pearls of...