of vestiges..

from loss, to memory of the loss, to the loss of a painful memory- it's a long journey. and when you've reached far enough, you look back and wonder, was it really me who went through it all? you look closer for traces of old scars. they're not there. then suddenly it dawns on you like clear light. you'd hung them in the sky. they were there, remote yet constant, like the sun and moon, like your own star which saw you through. and all the while, you never knew its quiet power over you. it was one of the things that made you, 'you'.