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The raindrops were like a waterfall of tears. They washed away the sins of our fathers, they cleansed and purified all that is rotten and dead.

The funeral pyre was set alight by tens of candles from the mourners. All that were gathered ignited the wood. Fire, at first shyly, then more  and more boldly, begun to engulf the wooden mound.

The flickering flames ate away the remains leaving only ashes.

How fragile and tender are our bodies, so little is needed to break them to pieces, to crush them into dust.

All the tears cannot change that. No prayers can bring back the dead.

Our time here has been carved into stone, aeons ago…

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