A million suns cannot light up the path I walked with you before.

It has to be dimmed, the bulb fused.

I pleaded in my heart for you to let me in.

But you have long shut the door and made your own home behind those walls.

But the home that you have has never been a home.

For you always have been scouring for, something beautiful, something permanent.

But they are fleeting.

Fleeting and insecure.

I am miniscule, a speck of dust.

You are to me, a heavy ball laden with air.

Airy and floating.

Never touching the ground.

What I've seen, what I've heard, what I've perceived before.

It happens, and it will happen.

I hope you'd fill me in for a little surprise, a surprise that will catch me before I stop breathing.