The hollow of my stomach retches
in agony; a hole has been left
in the center of me. When she was gone,
so was I. I haven�t seen myself
since that morning. There was only her
blood and their knives left. Where
was I? Where have I been? Mountains
of moments and minutes and centuries
have gone past, and still I cannot find
what was lost.
I cannot find her, and
I cannot find myself.


Penned by my hand on the 4th of Vita, in the year 435 AD.