Another tear rolled down, on time's cheek.

It was not meant to be
like this. Undaunted,
you open the fire towards the moon.

In your madness―
there was a discipline.
A psychological withdrawal―

from the nesting niche.
Believe me― it was not a fake,
I will not reclaim my gifts.

Lesser known was the
spiritual inadequacy.
The hawk will not come to land.

Death― be not a child.
Breathing is slowing down.
I will wait for the sunset.