Don’t hide your tears, my child –

I give you permission to let them fall.

When life withholds its gavel,

when your Piper requires you to pay

a price set in the stars,

let them fall.

Mourn well.

The tension holding

what should be

far from what is,

will break you in its stern grip

unless you grieve;

Eden is long gone.

Cry away the withered hopes

and wash away bitter realities;

your sobs are soul-songs which

rise before the Throne above.

Such precipitation

precipitates

a newly laundered vision;

soon, my child,

Eden will rise

with

healing in its wings…