Dear Past Sunshine,
I find it true that the ones who are the happiest are crumbling buildings inside.
Wipe those wistful tears from your soaked cheeks,
Let no rivers grace your face like a stream entering the ocean.
Your peers will share your grief,
But they are not your dam.

When those delicately penned and ink-filled papers are placed into your welcoming hands,
Cherish them,
Love them,
Yet don't use their quantity to measure your worth.

For no scale could ever calculate the weight of your soul,
No sapient can fully realize your boundless...