Letters To The Sky

Dear Mia,

I will take nothing to my grave and neither will you, no material made up of this world, nothing from the dusts of these stars, all your friends will go away: I, too, will go away, and everything will be washed away by time. And you can have everything I own once I do pass, and unfortunately, I have to pass this Earth to you in the horrible condition in which it resides.

This letter is a desperate cry for you to reach, reach beyond measure, and stretch your arm out so thin, stretch your arm until it shakes, stretch your arms until the muscles and the tendons, and the sinews of your body begin to snap and tear and sunder. Reach for your dreams, for your passion, for you.



Your Father

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