It has been ever so long.
So long since your fingers scrabbled
and your hands plunged, fought, and grappled
past the formations of concrete like confines
artfully placed through the acres of my mind
and pulled out the things
of which I was growing tired of wondering.

You would hold them in front of my weary face
and hurl them across the vast universe,
through time and into distant space.
They were sucked away by greedy black holes,

burned and singed by the explosions of dazzling stars –
a heartwarming display for all souls.

The most beautiful death I had ever witnessed
was that of what I once believed to be my kismet.

You have been gone a while, 
and though the world around me is too quiet,
my mind is growing too loud and too full.
My hands are too small,
too weak to pull everything out.
Your helping hands I am left without.

Please come home.

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