Full Moon

I climb up to the attic. There is one room there.
One room. No windows. No Exit.
The walls are yellow.
I don’t understand why no windows.
Then it hits: No glare.
I’m meant to focus in on myself.
That is why I’m here.

Now the thought becomes: What is important about me?
What has become 
of the life and the self I have known?
Was it all so special?
I am thinking the issue is death.

Not just my death, but death that exists all around me: 
sisters and friends. 

Fact is: I am guessing the moon must be lonely 
despite the stars;
or possibly because of galaxies…too big, too far,
and the knowledge that all may end,
all turn to ash
so that nothing will be left to see,
no one to see it.

And so, why me? And why the color of yellow?
The color of daffodils and daylilies 
and also sun: the progenitor of life.
Will our sun run down 
as my clock already is running?
Do other suns exist among scattered worlds,
such that sunrise will forever repeat? 

That is my wish.