Cry if you must, my child
Don’t you know the flowers bloom
The Trees grow
The waters flow
Through winter, spring, summer, fall
Flowers wither, trees fall, floods happen
storms arrive
let the tears expel your disease
let the hurt strip you of your embryonic innocence
let your sorrows teach you lessons
that new-found wisdom can turn into blessings
Cry if you must, my child
don’t cry for the same thing again
just like those flowers
the trees, and those waters
will begin to bloom anew and shine their beauty again
feeding, nourishing abundant life & light
so will the garden of your soul
and the essence of your spirit
Because nothing in this world is permanent
not your greatest happiness
and not even your greatest sorrow
The Grind 