There is a room with many doors.  In the center is a man, still as a statue, a statue set on a gold & crystal Throne.

His features no longer matter.

                     .He does not speak.

There is an angel in that room as well, he wears no wings but you can see by his Noor he is not a human being, despite being dressed in jeans, a cowl neck shirt, and a set of heavy keys on a keyring hooked to his belt loop.  

Upon each door. There is the name of a bayat, a loved one, or other bond- and the Angel of Keys closes each door and locks. 

Pull, click, lock. 

pull click lock. 

pull. Click. Lock.

Key after key.  No pause.  Steady rhythm you could set a clock to.Pull, click, lock.  pull click lock.  pull. Click. Lock.

Even upon those never met.  There may be hundreds of doors, but this is his duty, and he never tires of it.  The man at the center barely moves except to wince & tremble.

The angel says nothing at all. You thought he was barefoot, but you can hear the click of his shoes as he passes the Throne you notice he smells of vetiver and oud.

Raziel stops, takes that face of the stone man in his golden throne in both his narrow hands with rough precision – and suddenly-  kisses him deeply, passionately, and aggressively.

Only to let go, without comment nor emotion

Only walk out the only door still unlocked.

Only… As you wait to hear if there is a final *click* or not.

That waiting, is hell. 

The walls of closed & locked doors start to move steadily toward the throne regardless.

Ameen.