Quoted By:
Your Mori.
My Mori.
Our Mori.
Memory.
Blessed is he who lie at sight of the crescent blade.
Light begone, dim preferred for the swinger of the night.
No shadow. No presence. No life.
The river of blood flows, carrying with it love and serenity.
Along its current, the soul gently carried to the realm of peace.
Stored at its shore in all its glory, the rejoice of birth, life, and death.
The holy work of the universe.
May its soul finally rest.
Memory.
My Mori.
Your Mori.
