Ancient one, soul as old as time itself. Many lifetimes lived through, many more still yet to come. The ability to sense other souls wandering in purgatory, the maddening presence of those seeking help. Wise soul you are, of legends knowledge past and future. Knowing only time, self reflection, and deep thought of meanings can save all.
Darkest nights prove most concerting, harboring unknowns, wispers, and fears. Startled awake by grim sound of warning, the female voice of constant burning. Screams of rememberance, so vivid and clear, that even in silence just one can hear. Not tricks of the mind, but real as can be, for her screams were there, right next to me. As though laying right down all through the night, waiting for morning before startling plight. Her voice is an echo, caught dead in between, the morn and the night of dreams last demands. But so real and concerning, is the fact of them all, her voice caused trouble, the breeze felt by her call. Can’t shrug the feeling of not being alone, for the skin was cool, touched by the shrill call.
This ancient of souls, caught mid-way through burning, is both blessed and cursed. For to be among the others, yet still close to them all, the burning and screaming, watch as they all fall. The one to break free, those gates are no match, but still welcomed back.
To be continued…