For the last time.

A strong sense of wonder.

My atlas can never be shrugged,

it's always been and will be,

an entourage of faces,

of fragments of conversations floating,

of those million memories that aren't even half,

of what I'll have once my greys show.

My atlas has power,

it has volume,

and it's never solitary..

However,

as my universe expands,

with a few faces vanishing away,

a few I left behind,

and a few that chose to not walk along,

I realize the void,

the void of just that one second in a day,

when that particular face floats before you,

when you think how life would have been,

if only the two held on for a bit more.

Cause no matter how many miles my feet travel,

and how many roads I get lost in,

the threads of those memories,

back in the earliest days of a beautiful friendship,

will float like lilies,

silently echoing my footsteps,

on the transient fate of water.

And I shall walk ahead,

ready to embrace moments as such,

and walk steady,

with them as beautiful closed chapters,

and nothing else.