bed-ridden

The stars,
The little oracles that foresaw the devastation of the day you would no longer be there,
Gave me a clean pillow to dream.
To remember of anything aside from the collapse of the intercontinental bridge,
That we wore down crossing.
My guardians offered this comfort in hopes that this slumber would break the bed
Worse than what you broke.
Whispers warned of your destructive nature and
Their stellar energy blocked the fragments of this shattered dream.
So this fantastic vessel will move forth,
To the sanctuary.