The omen

The lustre is lost, for you are gone.

The profound serene smile within is faded,

For you are gone.

But my pride, the eternal pride, is that which remains, 

For I have had merged with your pure soul once... 

And, trust me, the pride will remain within forever,

For I have had merged with your pure soul once...

But, premature death is an irony, right? 

A bad omen for tomorrows, right?

Pray for me, for I won't collapse.

Your prayers will be heard, I know.