I did not exist then and I will not be here forever. I am a visitor just like you, standing on the observation deck.

While we are here, we create and carry our stories, draw conclusions about her while we find comfort to ease our pain.

Say, does it really matter for the ruthless heart, a wayward wind lost from the start? For the rest of us, is there no sign to keep us hoping beyond a doubt? Is love a mould just like the rock beneath our feet you made- porous and hard?

Let’s sing and dance our way into the light then… No answer? Let’s wear our metal thread and climb back up onto the observation deck… no answer?