What Remains

Through the empty branches the sky remains.
It is what you have. Rilke


I see the leaves changing color. The reds merging into the green, leaf litter on the earth, cool mornings. After the fall and the first frost, after your love leaves you, the cancer ravishes, the storm passes, the sun turns to the moon, what endures? What remains after everything else has passed through your fingers, like sand, as it always does? The sky, the sky, the sky...the sky remains and it is all that you need.