Funeral (or, Love or any other sorrow) (a sonnet!)

Here you are, epitaphs:
Once there was a world
And the world was gone.
Sleep, then, and tell us of birth:

Long ride down slopes
Of January's leaves,
Magnesium-colored world.

If a wolf were to hunt me,
And I, fearful submission,
Then my eyes that day would blare
Just as loudly as these tears.
Love is carved in so many places.
Hands like parchment.
Eyes like parchment.