And the air had a scent of truncated youth. And the night did not wished to turn up. She was crying for the souls of those who had gone, and especially for him, who had done nothing. Fate had defeated his soul and his being. His particles mingled with the dusky clouds of the evening. And everything remained the same. Nothing had changed in the world except for those who missed him heartily. Nothing could bring him back. Someone had to pay the price. However he was no debtor. Death snatched him out from the hands of Life, never to be got back, always to be yearned.
Our words are our lives; Once wasted, you can never get them back. However hard it may appear, we are but transient beings. Our destiny to wander through tortuous paths. The wind blows on the plain as it did before you went away. My eyes have seen you gone; Another eyes will certainly witness my departure.
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