Tears, A Talk



A feeling, thus profound, that a soul could only shudder in its wake. The sensation that flows through the very core of human being; an emotion that only God could make. The senses revel in the majestic torrent of perception, a gift so divine that even a stalwart man would be brought to his knees. Can there be any more proof that a person is alive? That what was once a child and only shed them after a fall would stand now with the brace of age and quake at the mere memory of a life well spent and thus enriched.

The ties of family and love provoke in a now grown person a sense of compassion, both received and given. Truly, after experiencing it myself, could only the impression be described in poor words and verve. So much so that poets can only hint at its existence, and its meaning would be lost to those too young to feel bitterness at its mention. The succulent stir that certain thought summon can easily be said to be pillar of human existence. Oh, how I saturate myself in such a torrent.

Science can reduce this majesty to simply chemical reaction. As knowing is wont to do, it pales next to the honesty of emotion. Such gifts, no matter how hard one tries, can never be tarnished by the lens of understanding. Were even one to grasp its full, literal meaning, such knowledge would stand diminished before the gaze of solid experience. Such joy is felt at the passing of this storm that some would even turn back and decide to venture through the storm again. But as with all things, no two storms are alike, and each adventure into them is as unique as the stars in the heavens. If only there was a person who could convey such true humanity into others, then, surely, there would be a greater understanding among the peoples of the world. There would be no desire for strife, conflict, or war. All mankind would rejoice at the simple pleasure of being alive. And on that day…


Even demons will join us, and thus, shed their own tears.

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