Rain drops on a window pane, a teardrop on a face-
the landmarks of our memory that we can never erase.
Waves of emotion; tears of the Earth-
like waves crashing on a beach; like the feeling of rebirth.
When we cry is there more to be found than at first appears?
When we cry is there a melody to be heard to rival the music of the spheres?
Do tears still remain long after being first shed?
Does the music of our tears still continue to play in our head?
Just as our tears, like raindrops, fall silently until they make contact,
our tears, like the stars of the night sky, are only interpreted in the abstract.
The tears of a memory- both of joy, and of pain-
are more akin to the galaxies of the universe than I could possibly explain:
when a star reaches the end of its life it explodes into a new state of being-
just as when an emotion reaches its peak it can be seen and felt fleeing.
When an emotion becomes too deafening for us to not let it be heard, and cry out,
our tears is the melody that we play, and the music that we could never live without.