This is when you lose your home.

This is when it all falls down.

What is it like, one may wonder—what is it like, to see others die?—to watch the ruins, of your home?—to know that, somehow—one way or another—it is no longer your home, at least the one you knew?—or know?

There are so many of us who can comprehend, and so many that cannot. Who is more fortunate? How many of those who cannot ever be prepared themselves, because those who can were once in the same position? It is so abrupt, and it just passes by, leaving you, or them, shaking and quivering, or winded so that the world is different. Yours or theirs, those eyes are ripped away and replaced so that there is nothing but now, a real or surreal now.

And to think, those who cannot comprehend this horror, once could not. What is it like, we may ask, to fall in the pit, and watch those who do not survive the fall? What is it like, and how do you live, you who can comprehend this terror more than we, or at least know it more than we? You people who are people, like us, who walked this earth, and still may walk, but farther away?

Is it a nightmare?—they say it is. A long nightmare, that is doubtless. Is there a light at the end of the tunnel...will it be reached in time?—the nightmare only lasts as long as the dream. There is always hope, but there is also despair.

Live. Is there anything else?—we who cannot share this experience cannot know. Or is it you?

Live. If that is all you have. There is hope, always hope, and not only despair. The pit can be left, if only a little, and that is enough, if it is enough. The homes can be rebuilt, if not slowly, so slowly. The nightmare only lasts as long as the dream.

Hope is there, and those who cannot comprehend, or can comprehend, beg you, the opposite or fellow, to take it by the hand and push on. There is something, if not nothing.

Please, and on the knees. Live on.