As I tread upon the beaten path of memories forlorn, a spasm of stardust, a holy cloud of tears adrift, tears that were to be shed upon memories unknown.

I knew then that fate unravels, as does a snake uncoil, reluctant at first but quick to strike upon prey unaware of dangers that lurk within.

A shadow breathes into me, striking the very bottomless pit of my conscience, a fathom unimaginable, anact of complete obscurity.

Better sense prevails as I grasp for my moment of truth, desire not bound wreaths upon the bends of my moral dimension, a craving of kinds, carnal in its least, embellishes an engraving of sorts, a mark that sinks deep, deep within the very confines of my existence.

I cannot begin to fathom the lust it sprouts, a very different kind, one that I shall not define, not because words cannot suffice, but for the mere presence of a mortal undefined, unrefined, a soul as dark as the corrupt heart it embalms.
-Angad Nanda