I give you the mist-horses folded within my diary, The whale’s road, and the throbbing clouds. I give you a galactic train that traverses all things, And ceases never.

I give you the rust-mottled lungs That have whispered your name times beyond count. I give you the obstinate irises That span eras, yet still bear your silhouette.

I give you avenues lined with plane trees, And lanes blooming with irises. I give you the twilight held within the waves That endlessly wash the sands.

I give you the fleeting glimpse of a whole building Caught when gazing through a window. I give you the elegy of me, Standing on tiptoe, eyes closed in repose.

I give you my direct gaze, my peripheral vision, my darkness. I give you my scalding tears, my breath, my softest sigh.

I give you the piety of an atheist. I give you the afterlife of a materialist.

I give you the copyright to the stories of our future. I give you the ownership of my solitary soul.