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.

Faux pas.

Ask in disbelief.

Pretend to know.

I am clueless.

I know.