I think I must have fallen from the sun

And stayed there, in its rays, for just a bit

For I only have the memory of a single,

Shining golden thread from then to childhood.

The loose end ties around the waist

Of a boy playing in the hot sand, digging,

Arms raised as if just then gently set down

By his warm mother far above.

Only then the blinding fire faded

Only then the color and slow focus began

And then this brief setting, too, passed

And I tried to walk among men.

The place where I came from

And the golden thread between it and then

And of mother

Are forgotten to all who live now

Except for some part of me.