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.