
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…
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