I built a shrine to you. Right here.
At the end of all your brave and brilliant quests for something better,
I’ll still be right here.
Although you’ve forgotten. You’ve forgotten to lean close when you weep,
when you weep from your lilted loneliness.
Touch our hand to your cheek and feel the river that has run through a million billion wondrous earth bodies — this majestic membrane that masks our starlit eternal glory.
Such is the game of remembering.
If you somehow lose the link to this poem, don’t worry. There’s a billion more where this came from.
Just look around you.
Stay close, Dear One.
Stay close to the river.