As God raised her to the light allowing his son’s blood to soak her lips, I danced in the fire which blanketed the Earth. Her unneeded proof satisfying her rightfully trained eyes and thoughts, as my doubtful mind screams upon answers to questions I asked growing up without tradition, growing up without brainwash. Wash…. a cleansing of the body… of the filth found in my unknown. Her soul in her faithful home, while mine remains lost in the flames…in the ashes. In the pile of the curious, the pile living just to live, and the pile which died when they died. My bones crisped to nothingness, similar to the faith and hope which never existed in the place of my lost soul. My unGODly soul.