As they stood before the marble slab before them, watching the swirling wisps of smoke rise from the sticks of offerings, a certain sense of marvel mixed with the sorrow of incapability welled up within him. He saw how his Mirror's gaze oozed respect while the crevices of age were filled with such passionate love He never saw before. But what He saw plucked his heartstrings so bad emotions just welled and gushed. He loved his Mirror, just like His Mirror loved his. He reflected His Mirror, just like His Mirror reflected his. The image of Him is always the same. Different in the tangible ways but almost identical in intangible ones. This fact reveberated through his mind. How is it possible he never saw this nor did he realise this earlier?

So the story behind every reflection before Him might be different. But what stays the same are the values and the aura they emit. What stays the same is the love and respect for those before him. What stays a fact is that he was a collection of experience of the mirrors before him, each physically different but internally the same.

That is the reason why He marvels, yet cry in sorrow. It was beyond Him, and any other being. It was the truth that He and all others can only accept. Just because.

Labels: living of sons, Passing of fathers