Indeed, it is no day for the Sun to shine, nor the moon to weave its light with stars entwined. The howling wind bears the burden of cries, as the souls bid you, a final goodbye.
The heavens weep with a gentle rain, mourning your absence, feeling the pain. Whispers of the breeze through the trees, tell tales of longing, with heads on their knees.
Blossoms bow, petals kissed by dew, as if they too are grieving you. As shadows lengthen in the fading light, remind of a lurching, cold, long night.
No bird dares to sing its joyful song, for the world feels wrong, where you belong. In the hush of dawn, when you will leave, your return is awaited, with a silent plea.
