"I'll see you again."

A mother wept upon

the scorched grass.

Thousands of loves were forgotten—not by choice, but because that was the greatest wound the eu'spectres could inflict.

They did not erase

your memories... or did they?

They erased only what could

truly be called love.

The kind of love

that not even the universe, embodied

in a single person,

              could overcome.

The kind of love that makes

even God pause... or that... that one.

Painfully, that kind of love which would never sacrifice the one it cherished,

even if it meant the end

of everything you know and

nostalgically love:     the place

                             where you grew up;

where your parents and grandparents were married; where your ancestors

built the house whose hallways your mother ran through as a little girl.

And despite it all,

you would never understand it. Or perhaps you would... but you would never choose it.

The love that held Marie and Albert Einstein together; the love that survived distance and even the kiss of young, passionate Death.

And... haha, forgive me, dear reader.

I know words aren't really your thing, but while others fight, I write.

It is the way I dismantle people, even though I try to be a good son.

Not in service of evil. Sometimes dismantling someone

is the strongest and most precise gift of all—the only way to keep them away from the innocent.

That gift is a two-winged angel God placed in my hands, yet it does not draw me away from you. And I do not want it to.

This is where we often fail. Gifts were made to serve, not to be served.

There is an even greater inheritance: the humility to kneel.

Well... I'm sorry.

Now, let us continue.

Poly was the seventeen-year-old daughter of a man who had fought for love in The Soul Civil War.

In the end, he forgot the way home... and even whose heart had

once belonged to him.

His daughter could not endure it.

But Poly's daughter endured it even less.

And though it pains me to tell you what happened, the little girl slowly faded away. It was then that Poly understood that, sometimes, a taciturn ending is simply that.

Books do not always end with "and they lived happily ever after." Sometimes, that "happily ever after" is found in Paradise, when we finally see again those to whom we once whispered:

"I'll see you again."