The Tear Collector Tears they fall, sometimes bless-ed In their burning Watered reminders of a hearts capacity To connect emotions Soft welling they sting And find their language of wet lashes Run their courses As ancient rivers carve their way Through stone barriers Tears collected vanish in vanquished aches Evaporate to silence Leaving their mark, their fragrance Breathed in the molecules dispersed Cut to the edges of wishes Images of longing Hearts slowly breaking in two Still holds you Weep for you I do Behind the hard choke rasping and sobs Moans sniffling for a beauty Both found and lost Delivered Jesus to red rimmed eyes That see beyond and into the sanctity of pain It cried; I; not for myself But for you, for her, the rest of the world Broken by innocence And ignorance The heaving heavy chest digs its well of sadness In slow counted beats of blood Grief for love With these sickles gouged deeper to the flaws And spread their knowing further Into the fathoms of your soul Tears; the reflections of venerated smiles Become the augury of responses Of sight pierces the darkest, fallen pool Tears; the written messages of sorrow and laughter Covert their collection of sacrifices And fall bless-ed humane The merciful and pitiable denizens Of a stronger more courageous face than Gods They beat with the bravery of flesh More holy; than heavens sacred Have these tears For more sure they are in their tactile salt Are these tears Have lived And in your tears a more profound betterment exists More, much more of life Stronger Braver And more courageous To face their own existence Than the pretence of their presence In God