Love won’t make me cry
Anything but that.
Tears are for the lonely, for the sorrowful
For the mourning, for the grieving,
Tears are for the desolate, for the wounded,
Tears are for the dying.
Yet no dead heart cries.
Only a soul of life sheds tears for their suffering,
Tears for themselves,
Tears for their companions,
Tears to be shared,
Tears to be lost,
Tears to be treasured,
Tears to be cherished,
Tears for the living,
Tears for the loving,
Tears for the lost.
Tears for the wandering child.
The one who wanders alone, following footprints that never fit his feet.
Wandering and wondering,
Will he make it to the end of his preordained odyssey?
But he never cries.
He clings to life.
And he hopes.
For his destined tear.
And then there will be time for him,
To quench his dried and parched heart.
And he hopes and waits,
That weary, he will be laid to rest,
His heart filled with trembling tears,
His most treasured gifts,
From the heart of someone who loves him.