Family embrace - 3. Chapter 3

Tears, the Language of the Soul

They fall without a sound, A river etched in quiet pain, Tracing lines upon the skin, Like whispers lost in rain.

Each drop holds a shattered dream, A memory sharp as a razor blade And bright as blood, Echoes of a distant voice, That brings comfort as it fades into the night.

Yet not all tears are born from grief, Some shine in love's embrace— An embrace that is eternal, Like silver threads of gratitude, Or joy’s unbridled grace.

For tears are truth that words can't hold, A song the heart must sing and must endure, In sorrow’s weight—a weight that can crush you if you let it, or laughter’s flight—a flight that lifts the soul. Tears, they speak of everything.