A tear born
Wet to the touch
In the eye of this storm
And conceived in release from ghostly moments
Unaware of the support of ancestral emotions
To grow and wait
For that eye[blink] of a second
To tear away and drop
Over the raw edge of admittance
And in the reflection
Of sun, food, and people
Its solar surface glistens with soul
Showing life as a subtle conversation
Between passion and change
The conversation paints its descent
As it traces the trail of vanished brush strokes
Down a weather-beaten face
And we can be seen gnarled and ardent
Plunging along in its reflection
Hand in hand with Compassion
Connected through a single teardrop
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