If the moon reflects the sun,
Thy tears mirror thy agony.
No clearer picture hath pain painted.
Than that brushed by death's silky touch.
If the sea reflects the sky,
Thy shaven head mirrors thy cleaved heart.
Never hath emptiness occupied more expanse,
Than the absent space beside thee.
If the wind reflects the pour,
Thy bellowing cries mirror thy aching soul.
Mankind's eyes hath never beheld such insanity.
Than that set ablaze in your soul.
If the music reflects the heart,
Thy symphony mirrors thy misery.
Such sweet sounds of death's aftermath echoing from thy Gehenna.
The drowning notes of thy bereaved soul.