To Avenge the Dead With An Arrow

How heavy and unbearable is the guilt I have sustained and harbored for years? Was it my wish to be the last in the casket? I've grieved enough and ran out of tears and humiliated, I'm silenced by the retort! This October apple harvest is far from ripe, it didn't get enough sun, only drops of rain; their song isn't a happy one, rather a jibe! Silver coins don't clink, feel their disdain; and praying, they return to the holy shrine! My twilight is nearing and my footsteps are slow, should I pose and catch the luminescent fireflies that evoke the enthusiasm of youth always aglow? If evening reflects great sorrow, so do heart and eyes... fate spares that one to avenge the dead with an arrow!