Many of my peers have already died.
I live on premiums, though on credit.
So I have still done too little,
The flight continues,
My meteorite has not yet worn away.

Like every soul,
I long to LEAVE a trace,
To burn to ash,
But to shine so
That mountains, cities and countries would see,
And MY radiance could not be stopped
By any curtains, drapes or walls.

If only I would not fall as Lucifer’s star,
To incinerate everything.
Not as hail, not as a whirlwind,
But as a little ray of the sun
To bore through the night —
Touching with the tip,
To resurrect at least someone.