When the loss of love, of any love, of all love:

Mourning strikes,

I wear black and harbor black thoughts.

Love is a passion, an inordinate dedication:

Like smelling the earth and the ocean or

walking on the path of redemption:

the extreme touch of the divine.

The sounds of the spirit are strong, the sight of the infinite too,

As they create their new diction.

Mourning is glowing, mourning is

Wearing the blackest thoughts and letting the world know:

Reaching the most somber shores is now your dedication.