On a sunny afternoon, when the birds were making melody in the scorching sun, I was having an interesting kip, after routines of chores, which spanned through the morning.

In my kip, I was in a reverie. In the reverie, I was in a theatre (medical) or sort off. But the uniqueness of this immaculate convalescence room is that there was no physical physician, yet I was been operated (cloned). My basic components (cells) were been sorted, compared, harmonized and aligned with a better one. This continued to all parts of my body, as deficient ones were complemented and the despicable ones were discarded for reformation.

Out of curiosity, I got up from my status quo in a loci standi to behold the statuesque of my clone. I was gob smacked, bolted from the blue, by its femininity. Courageously, I walked up to the magnum opus of an objet d'art, created without hands; it was a tour de force of a beatific etiquette, which foiled the law of gravity, as all natural laws premeditated love. My life seems to be concealed in this cumulative creature of desired perfectness.

This enigma was veiled, so my completeness could not be viewed completely. I tried to unveil her but the reverie escaped, as if it was attached to the veil. Just like a scale falling of my eyes, I faced the veracity of my kip, but I didn’t want to rouse until I tattered the knitted questions of who, when, why, where, how etc.

I enquired to acquire that my clone was my SOUL MATE, whose making was been revealed to me. Then I complained that I didn’t see the countenance of my Chum, but was made to understand that the phizog was undergoing plastic surgery, so that it will look more enhanced than mine, being formed from me incognito looks. In the light of this, it will be revealed at an appointed time, when it will not be good for man to be alone for this reason will we be united as one. At a place known, predestined, called, justified and glorified according to His will. THIS IS THE LORD’S DOING…