I once followed a teardrop till she had run out of sadness. She turned to me as the end was near and asked where she had given herself. I pointed back the way we had come. Our path was marked by her. She began to weep tears of regret at the journey finally met. But then before her eyes, life began to arise. All of her given gifts had brought a beginning from her ending. She smiles knowing of blossoms blooming from the tears she shed. She smiles knowing life comes even from the dead.
Jason C. Cushman