Sveyn brushes the curtain aside and watches as a single star
dribbles down the black sky; like a raindrop on a window pane.
The speck flows down in a quiet motionless confused river,
left...right...and an occasional straight line.
It falls and searches for that similar comfort like
the others. Many raindrops run along his side,
brushing past him quickly as they twirled down the air.
Two seperates touch and spin themselves into a single song.
He watches as he continues to descend.
He understood wasnt a part of the rain,
nor was he a piece of the blue black wisp.

He was a falling spot, blessed a faint ivory glow.
He looks around and sees only familiar strangers.
Slowly, he tips his body back and watched
the night sky blanket. But I fear its too late, my child.
He has already been falling for a dozen suns.

So, the star sits in that awkward positon of freefall.
Not belonging to the Night nor to the Gaia.
He waits in the middle, the void of no name.
"Its raining."
Twenty nine years he shall wait.
His old friend, the RedGiant is late.