Buzzing all around you,. Of mothers you saved but still had to die. With those children still inside them. No, the sun, for heaven does know loss. Gloomier than darkness when you ceased to shine. You stopped counting at 22. And when you rose,. Puss and blood trickling your thighs. You showed us how to be strong.

Short stories that are actually short. I have planted my best seeds in barren ground. You absorb some of it. Not long ago we were on the same starting point in a circular course. But we were facing opposite directions. Now we approach meeting in the middle. Best if we collided and dwelled on a common point again. Else our meeting would be fleeting.