 I am the sun, the star at the center of your universe. I am a wondrous threat made of hydrogen and helium, marvelled by poets and artists alike. Come too close to me and you will be scorched. Go too far away and feel the bitter coldness of space. It is I who allows you to see with such clarity, yet such is my brightness that you will lower your gaze at my majesty. You complain of my absence when I hide behind the clouds, yet can hardly bear my gaze when I return. At least for you, you may seek refuge under a shady tree or feel the cool water refresh your dry throat. But let me tell you of a dryness with no relief. Let me tell you of a day in which I was in anguish, wishing my rays would not touch the skin of Hussain. If he had looked up to heaven, I swear God would have put out my light forever. But he struggled and drew his last breath upon the earth that I had scorched and under the sky which I smoldered over. In agony I wanted to weep. I wanted to rip myself from the inside. All around me the skies turned red, as if it was my blood seeping from my sphere. All across the world they saw my tears. It's written in the history books how the skies turned to blood for the death of Hussain. I am the sun, once so majestic and proud. What I would have given to send rain down upon the body of Hussain.