The one who lost is the one who knows the sweetness of the bitter. This journey that we all chose is more or less walking on a narrow path where nobody knows what awaits us. Down the line, as we walk, we tremble and see a few fall the shake. As we march towards the destination, for few, the path is all a veil of roses and for few, it is of thorns. And as a consequence, we walk along, holding hands to share each others’ burdens. That comfort, I call it “home”. Very few are fortunate to preserve this comfort unlike few of us. Out of all those that we held hands, that one soul which bestowed a purpose of life on us and to see the same turn into ashes in front of you is a spirit-wrenching circumstance. The gravity of loss, a grave loss, leaves you questioning your beliefs. You mourn to the air hoping it is heard. And you mourn till you shrivel. That decay in your breath compels you to swallow your surrounding. In that split second you are liberated from the perception of loss. You realize that it is never a loss till your lungs are filled. You age as a human as you outgrow your loss. A loss that is engraved in your thoughts as a relic. And in the end, your thoughts are just a mere reflection of reality and your perception makes your reality and your perception is carved by your experience.