15 July 2020

Dearest Fazal,

The cremation fields in Benares, India, reach me in color as you intended. It is elemental, sensory like the swirling of smoke. A suffocating limerence. I smell fire consuming flesh. My hands are holding the heat. If I close my eyes, I can still hear and listen to the flames licking the last remains of my own brother’s body burning not on a pyre, but in a retort.

We are Earth.

We are Fire.

We are Water.

We are Air.                                                                            all
                                                                                          is
No more. We always want more.                      that
We are sparks of ­breakaway light dissolving

Love,
Terry