Hold on.

A thousand little pictures, they flash, in between blinking lights, faded memories of sorrows and joys. It's like a heartbeat, pulsing under the flesh of a human body. Slow and steady. The rhythm of another world, the unseen life source behind the veil.It grips you and then releases. One minute your free and the next your are enslaved. The force of the wave you leave behind in your wake can cause the driest tree to bloom and yet leave a trail of causalities with the deepest wounds.

You would die if asked, for a taste, a glimpse, a simple kiss of the one you ached to know. And yet to know is surrounded with heartache, with loss and with thwarted desire. You bend to not break and break to be healed. It's not easy, when a gun is pointed at your head and the trigger decides your next breath, your next embrace and your next life.

You fingers grasp and yearn and the pictures keep dancing, reminding you of what you do not have and yet what you long for. You would scream if you had enough air to breathe and you would cry if indeed your tears would be enough.

But none of it is...so you keep searching.