Tears

Tears, tears,
wasted pools of stagnant morbidity,
dripping, splashing, splattering
aching vestiges of painful pride
dissolving last traces
of fetid humanity.
Torrents of undisciplined passion
dwindling ever so slowly to mist . . .
then .  …. nothing….
yet from the dank murk
of swampy Netherlands
is a seed nourished,
cleansed of grime
and cracked from it’s casing
to emerge
a waving frond
in a verdant meadow of life.

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