The Last Illusion

Along the twilight road I met three women,

And they were neither old nor very young;

In her hands each bore what she most cherished,

For they were neither rich, nor very poor.

In the hands of the first woman

I saw white ashes in an urn,

In the hands of the next woman

I saw a tarnished mirror gleam,

In the hands of the last woman

I saw a heavy, jagged stone —

Along the twilight road I met three women,

And they were neither fools nor very wise,

For each was troubled lest another covet

Her precious burden — so they walked alone.