someday you will find me in a field of grass
burning the pages of what has come to pass,
and perhaps you are the stars and I am the sky,
but there is no better relief than this smoky lullaby.

watching the bugs flock to the light,
I think of you,
and how you'd call me sunshine in the middle of the night,
and I think of how their wings burned,
how we flew too close to the sun,
such as the lesson Icarus learned.

Don't fly too close,
to something so hot
if wax and feathers is all you've got

.

.

and if you are the stars, and I am the sky,

I would drop you, without a goodbye.