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By darwin Date: 2007 Feb 01 Comment on this Work [[2007.02.01.18.02.1910]] |
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I wonder at the amount of release in a single tear. The emotion built into muscles and tendons. Springs with anger, tied taught and waiting. Often denied, behind the guise of self-preservation and stoicism. Strength of men, we reproach ourselves. Waiting for the moment of emotional deflation only when necessary. When we can no longer contain the toxic waste our minds have bilged into bones. But the naysayer, a story in contradiction, would claim a tale of clout. When a world of men would have at the heart. Valves and vessels that hold us together, merely string. For all who wait comes a moment when the light has gone away. Where the weight of sorrow finds its vested canals and tides rise with memory. It’s in that pocket of reflection and humility, somewhere between here and a half world, we leave ourselves behind. |