More than nature

"Those who sow with tears will reap with songs of joy." - Psalm 126:5  

"There you walked, I was only a few steps behind. You didn't know I was there, but I was, for every single second, of every single minute, of every single hour, of every single day. I was there, with you, only a few steps behind.

I watched as you wept, tears of sadness, tears of grief. My gaze was fixated on the small story in the corner of your eye. It started to travel, leaving behind a legacy from the corner of your eye to the tip of your nose.

It fell. The instant it hit the grassy ground, it shattered like glass, never to be whole again. You didn't skip a beat, you didn't even look back.

But where that tear hit the grass, I sprouted forth a beautiful flower, exploding not with sadness, but magnificent reds and blues and yellows. You kept walking, you didn't even look back.

Another story formed in the corner of your eye. This one was much saltier and much denser. I could tell by the rhythm in your step, the sway in your arms, this one was breaking you apart. You didn't know what to do, how to deal with it, how to stop it from forming, so you did nothing. And just like that, it made the journey from the corner of your eye to the tip of your nose.

And it fell. Just like the last, it split to millions of pieces, fragments of your story once it made its assault on the grassy ground. Again I sprouted forth a flower and again you kept walking. You didn't even look back.

One after another, stories continued forming. Just like the last, they were salty, they were dense, and they made the journey from the corner of your eye to the tip of your nose. One at a time, like ants marching, like cars driving, like customers waiting in line, they fell. Shattered, destroyed, and broken to millions of words and sentences, they hit the grassy ground.

I didn't lose count of a single one. Each one, I sprouted forth a flower more beautiful than the last. My garden of stories was growing, alive, more than it had ever been before! But you kept walking, you didn't even look back at what your tears had created. No more of this.

Another tear, another story began to form in the corner of your eye. It was saltier than the last, more dense than ever before. When it journeyed from the corner of your eye to the tip of your nose, it left a trail of bitterness.

I was there, only a few steps behind you, watching. Just as it reached the tip of your nose, it fell.

And I caught it. Between my thumb and my pointer finger, I held the saltiest, most dense and bitter story that has come from you. I showed it to you. I turned you around and showed your our garden too.

Just like every other story, every other tear, I let it shatter, I let it break into a million words and sentences on the grassy ground. A flower sprung forth.

You smiled. You became a musician that day, singing songs of joy, all because of those tears you wept."