Everything that is beautiful
is bound to tragedy.
My soul is leaving;
slowly walking away,
but looking back,
always looking back,
as I get closer to the white room.
I should talk to my childhood self,
but it would break her heart to know.
In that heart, she’s still dreaming
of the orchard by the sea.
I could live in this sunlight forever.
Perhaps I’ll leave my body here.
The clouds will soon return,
but one day they'll break again
and flood the earth with beauty.
I am not needed here.
All this beauty will live on forever,
with or without a witness;
with or without me.