All that is left around me is an empty field covered with dust. The village of my heart went up in flames. It burned all my emotions and all my longings. One by one, they were destroyed in the fire. The flames never burned me, yet turned all that I was into ashes.
That was then.
This is now.
I walk on the grey soil, soft like a Kashmiri carpet. I see the desolation and I see the joy. All is gone and I am left utterly empty, empty of all that weighted me down. My steps are so light, I leave no marks nor lift any dust. There is silence, a vast silent emptiness.
A smile dries my tears and then I see a touch of green amidts the grey, bright like an emerald emitting its own light. I can smell the aroma of rebirth, that mix of grass and soil and water. Life is coming back to the burned village of my heart. Gently I caress the grass blades that do not cut. Gently I get up and continue walking out of the burnt down village and onto the open road.
The sky above me, that divine cup turned upside down with no end and no angle, is now my only guide.