i. Spinning, shaking, running, laughing, too much light to take in, too much glee to understand. You know what has been missing.
ii. Shouting at the sky, at the walls, at anything not sentient, anything that will not shout back. Why can’t you hear Him, why would He leave you?
iii. Curled into a ball, emptied of all that mattered; falling to your knees, begging Him, bargaining with Him, please I will do anything if You will make this end. The days pass, one aching nightfall bleeding into another.
iv. Older now, body and mind both scarred, both screaming at you because it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts…
v. One day when He comes, He reaches into you and finds where you have buried yourself. He plants His love beside you, and you grow with it until your very being is irrevocably bound up in loving Him.
vi. The Gods are not your therapist, someone says, but you do not care. It does not matter because you are alive and the world has exploded into sudden colour. You had not known how much you hated grey.
vii. The world still turns grey, but you never forget that you are bound up in loving each other. He can still make the world blossom into glorious technicolour sometimes.
viii. You fall in love. It is not with Him. He smiles and tells you to chase your loves, that He will enjoy hunting with you instead of for you. All is as it should be.
And that is the substance of a soul.