Scorched earth, leaving for the heavens. Firdaus, Paradise. I sought your peace. Paradise lost, I am still here. Requiescat in pace.
Life, born of high fever. Lust and anger, broken, a mind that is shaken, troubled. I was not the victim, the poor soul, drenched in blood, and pain. Instead, I was a keen voice, a sweet cry on the wind.
I was a haunting song. Then silence. Then voices rising to meet their master, then they saw you.
A vision, at once appeared. A carrier of soul, a deva, by another name.
For your life, I was needed. A piece of you, a part, a shard, ein Teil, broken off, dispersed.
I write. Hear the strength in my words.
A smiling no, thirst quenched through any means.
Ask in disbelief.
Pretend to know.
I am clueless.