Why do the tears always fall upon me?
Why can't I spend just one morning in peace?
Why must we cry until we can no longer see?
Do we all think it will bring us our ease?
No. For the world consists only of salt water and red wine.
Although we taste it often we never think it so fine.
Often mistaken for our tears and our blood,
But distill not the name by rubbing in the mud.
We deserve no such conscience as to forgive with tears
We require more grievous nature to alleviate our fears.
Something is wrong if we think that blood pays
It only heightens our blindness to the error of our ways
And substantially lessens our number of days.
Something is wrong if it is made of blood and tears.
It is something created in the heart's grinding years.
Mentally drowning in a flood from the heart
Never quite knowing the ending is the start
Shall none of us at all know the water is mud
Until it is strengthened with the filth of our blood?
Or so to say.
I do not know, I cannot see the way.
Just yet.
But I will not forget
The blood and tears.

Penned by my hand on the 10th of Niuran, in the year 154 MA.