Gravitas of Tears Hitching Rides

Are we but tears hitching rides
In the ever-evaporating dissolves of the past?
Do tears come as a result of pain?
Or does pain come as a result of tears
Retching themselves from the dark caches of repression?

Oh, to brush the back of one's hand
Across the cheek of reflective honesty
Remove the tears of sadness forever
To see the glow of trenchant moisture
Glisten the eyes with joy.
To hear laughter begetting the peaceful arc of rainbows
Upon the bridge to solace and reform.

Perhaps our expectations are forever doomed
To drown beneath the weeping of yesterday.
Or might there be something we are bent on turning away from?
The quantitative question dominates our existence, it seems.
But is there not another pattern to our reality?

To clench the gravitas of honesty,
Where tears are but transparent bliss
For the revealing
To be
To act
To become.

For life is but an honorarium
Temporary and qualitative
Seeking an essence that better explains
Our choices
Our regrets
Our reform
The metronome of life

While

From  precipice hanging
The tear stares back at me.
So many years of waiting.
Might this be the defining moment?