Tears

Tears are but the outlet,
To the soul.
They are the emotions loosed,
To wreathe and roll.

Somewhere neath the heart,
Tender feelings build.
The chasms of the mind,
With hurt is filled.

Joy supreme relinquishes,
That ever rushing flow.
No stopage can be stayed,
When this you know.

For there is a time,
A time when sorrow stays.
And wraps the personage that is you,
In long and shafted rays.

Tears are the ebbing tide,
The over-flow that brings alert.
They are an ointment, with healing power,
For the moisture-drops of hurt.


E.P. 1908 - 1989