Once upon a nightmare night,
you slipped into that eternal sleep and I became rootless.
I was deadwood resigned to sinking in a river,
but time kept dragging me along as I watched my life go up in smoke and flames and burn down around me.
Death is a sinister alchemist — transforming love into grief.
Grief is an unwelcome riot of sad moods and furious feelings that devour you whole. For a long while I existed like an inside out unguided dream.
And then one day,
staring into the vastness of the million miles of space in between us,
I saw a constellation in the shape of you.
Stars are the alchemists that transform death into life.
And I remembered that I am made of star stuff.
My heart still ached with every heartbeat
but that knowing was just enough to slowly begin again.
Breath by breath I became the alchemist — transforming sorrow into joy.
On the bad days I pray that I remember this until I, too,
am somewhere beyond this Earth.
