Nebula

And he is missed less and less by the passing of each moment

Like the butterfly harping across wind strings

His arrogant presence is no more and it makes room for silence and acceptance

Happiness, gleaming from every part

Of fingers and toes and eyelids

Of color and weightlessness when walking or speaking and going.

To moving on to reaching far.

Arms outstretched to embrace the sun’s kisses and are coddled by the moon’s cheese-gaped holes

And her grace is restored

And she floats like an angel-winged dove amongst the clouds in the endless night sky.

The Stars have taken her home.

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