I loved you.

You knew this to be true.

Still I saw you leave, leaving me hollow.

And knew that I would never be able to follow.

But there is still a chance you may hear my plea, hear me beckon.

So here I sit, atop the mountain closest to Heaven.

 

Why did you leave?

You desired to go back home, to your true sheath?

And forsake your loved ones, the forgotten mortals?

To stay here and wither away, to wonder at your eternal toils?

But your family and I want you to forget your kingdom, return to our temporary haven.

So here I sit, atop the mountain closest to Heaven.

 

I contemplate.

You left, leaving your loving parents to lay upon their final slate.

As you were alleviated to a celestial plane that only causes you strife

And you only left me this small vial, your final gift, to give me eternal life,

But life eternal is meaningless, if it is defined by your absence, your starward progression.

So here I sit, atop the mountain closest to Heaven.

 

I watch the fire burn away your gifts, the empty boon.

And the smoke curl up toward the Moon.

You will see it and come back to me, I can only pray.

My light, my love, my Hime.