The touch of the crimson flower resolves it all.

As it embraces the frame, all pain wears off. Dreams and desires sublimate into nonentities. The eyes closed resign to its warmth. Ambitions have already become subaltern history by then - the potentials and futilities being discussed by informed minds outside! Sounds dissolve in the whispers of the crimson flower cleansing the frame of all realities, for what is a reality but a story we create and choose to believe in. Flesh melts away, transcending mortal claims on identity. Bones surrender to the selflessness of passionate fury lapping up the last traces of all hurt, all judgments, all prejudices and notions. A few concerned souls wait outside, wanting to determine the direction of the new journey as they submit the remnants at the end of the process to the august company of phytoplanktons and zooplanktons.

And as all this happens, I believe, I will still smile foolishly from margins of invisibility, as I do now. Just that the blog won't have an update on the experience!