Tears

They are the clear streams
That take their origins
From the deep wells of emotions and feelings.
They are a reflection of the thoughts
That the mind at times struggles to cope with.
They are born out of sadness and grief, glory and pride,
Fury and bitterness, frustration and despair.
They may erupt like lava from an angry volcano,
Or pour down in torrents like the tropical rainstorm.
But at times they come, silent, unbidden, on unheeding steps
Like snow falling on mountaintops
And calming the agitated hills and valleys of the mind.
A balm to soothe the restless soul
And a vent that speaks the language of the heart - sans words!

Copious they may be not,
Yet they carry away with them the bottled up thoughts
Which if allowed to fester within,
Might eventually choke up the receptacles of the mind
And benumb the heart,
Until the soul forgets the very difference
Between the right and the real, the imaginary and the wrong.
Tears are the gems that shine forth in misery
And enable the soul to retain its identity in adversity.

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