so many many states of being the soul went through
that she don’t even know what is her front or backside
… and now days on end that drought
day after day after day and no end in sight

being imprisoned inside the earth is oppressive and bad
– but she having to stand upon its dry surface is worse
… from below the heart – where the soul is – upwards
only this neverending scorching drought ,
no distraction no escape and no benumbing is possible

HOW difficult it is to not constantly go complain
when even a seasoned soul ran out of survival methods
… whý you kill us a 100 times over
wasn’t a couple of times enough ?