Tuesday, January 22, 2013


 In liquid, salted offering,
we weep so many times,
without us ever knowing;
just how or even why.
Tears cannot be summoned,
they make their own sure plans,
and fall when they determine;
when we agree they can.
You cannot make yourself cry,
in any heartfelt way,
but just allow expression;
and let them fall and stay.
They ride upon the crest of heart,
and hold the reins of mind,
this oceanic grieving,
where healing hurt entwines.
It's love which is the birthing place,
where feeling throws the stone,
which ripples on the lake of pain;
and let's the truth be shown. 

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