'But the soul becomes fond' she said, as another day lay down and died. 'Is it

not time' I said, to abandon these chains that bind us and gather together the

wood to fuel our fire?'. 'Fear not' she said 'For as love itself seeks our

nectar, so too will time grant you a reprieve'. Words that washed over me as the

waves lapped against me and the waters of time wished to envelope me and kiss my

very soul.