All that I have lost, is all that I have gained.

5th July, a scintilla and an end written before the story was even read, before the life was even lived. Right there, in the middle of sunshine and chaos, I held a pen, and I saw the world with just inked words spilled on paper. I saw how the nitrogen, carbon and calcium combine to make the stars and how it takes them billion of years to burn out and burst into stardust. I made even the wine stains and paper cuts look poetic, and made thunderstorms sounds peaceful. I found beauty in the shades of cinnamon skies. Erstwhile, I lost my words only to discover my voice in the void of misery.  My flesh tore open with shards of past as I bled out in ruby red. I became a witness of love, a victim of tragedy and now a slave to my insanity. Words are just that, words. And yet they can be deeper than the hell below and wider than the Heaven above. Honey, so it goes. On and on it goes. Until it doesn't anymore. The sun sets, as the flowers wither. In breathe the air and out it never comes. 
-U.J