Teardrop

The hours passed in a glazed pear shaped tear. The tear fell into the green carpet and dried there, as though it had never been. With it, went the pain of something that was once there, but seemed so faded and unadorned in reality. Though, this pain only went temporarily. The deliverance of the pain came through the downpour of teardrops in a perpetually sun-blooming sky. The primrose clouds which hung in the distance revealed the enlightened hope of beauty on the far horizon, of magic lingering in the air. The smell of something so strong left the flesh rippled and raised in ecstasy. Behind it all, in the dragging aftermath, there moved a black thunder cloud. A cloud sure to return as is nature’s cycle. Though, one knows, as that tear dried up, so the thunderstorm’s return shall not hover in remembrance of that pain for eternity. Eternity does not exist.

The seconds it took for one small, wet molecule of liquid to glide down the porcelain skin, is the amount of time it took from the last word to the first word in that crucifixion. In the waking seconds all that came were tears and no comfort. In the months and hours and midnight torture there after there still breathes a living loneliness. The space is unknown by any other. In the blatant face of things once done and past, nothing is beautiful or comforting. It is like a rubbing blister or an enduring ache between the shoulder blades. Constant discomfort in a nagging equilibrium.

In that tear the colours of all worlds floated. In that tear there was a small beginning and a tiny end painted subliminally. In that tear there was the reminiscing image of the circle in which we live and evolve. The tear resembled life itself. But the tear fell due to the death of life. In the tear, woven in intricacies and delicacies unbeknownst to man, was the secret to life and the colours of the paradigms in which life happens. The tear, warm and stinging on the soft, milky rose flesh, carried the essence of the soul from which it left. Within that tear, their lived another soul, forged in a moment when nothing else but the utmost extreme was true. The shared space had given the life which now lay trapped in a tear. A tear only to fall into a green carpet and dry up. A tear to be remembered one day, perhaps in a different emotional magic.

Depictive of the necessary letting go, and colourful like the vibrancy of life worth living, the tears which followed appeared to deliver from the sadness. The tide washed away the trails left behind and marking the skin which it had burnt with regret and shame. The voices of clarity lifted the spirit, followed by the eyes which searched the sky beyond the window. Somewhere in the vague distance there burnt the magic of that energy which was passing through. Somewhere in the moonlit dance-floor lived a soul that was burning like an undying star. And the heart fluttered up and through the curtains to abandon the tear upon the carpet. The pangs of shame and regret began to fade as the infinite galaxy opened its pitch black solitude and surrendered an unconditional love. The reconciliation was nearer now than before that tear had rolled off the cheek and onto the green carpet. The atonement was coming in waves of light and abundance. The sounds of that light filled the heart with hope again. The healing was inevitable.

Drifting now towards the unseen with arms spread wide open, the sanctuary of safe haven was ripped open and all that once seemed to exist in a cherished egoism was destroyed. All that could possibly exist from that which was amalgamated from a fused moment of love, was love itself. There is no brighter burn or entanglement of strands. The colours which exude from this arduous truth are remnant of the explicit energies that are so awing that no man has the ability to recreate. Unless by the inexplicable moment indefinable. In those colours there exists the precious, the innocent and the unearthly beauteous. There exists energy which may in fact be too pure for this life, too powerful, entirely enigmatic in this instance.

The tears which rolled out and purified the skin from the previous destruction now held the essence of forgiveness. The indefinable moment occurred innocuously. The air lost its taut austerity. The static prickle of breaking energy began to fade and the harmonious fluid of life began to connect. In the connection the waves of entangled colours began to fill the heart which lay beating on the floor. Through the beating heart there existed a moment of recognition for that which beats, ultimately for that which lives and evolves. In the recognition the light which was once unbearable, was now a lot softer. The kiss of the love with which the act was conceived and borne, is the ultimate atoning grace. The truth and formation of which, found in a teardrop.