For every tear that falls a memory is established. A memory forming into a river that streams a variety of emotion. This river, so beautiful to paint on a canvas thirsty in touch, brushes a single stroke of honesty. If tears never fall could a river become so beautiful, could the structure of this flow seem so gentle? Maybe our tears define the true beauty our hearts keep hidden, or maybe our tears are the river that’s intended to fall gracefully as our experience streams in directions of the unknown. Somehow our river flows within reach of others, touching the lives of many because of our very own faults. Our river connects us, explaining the coldness of how we could be if hurt subsides the possibility of warmth we could harness. Hypothetically, we are the river, we are the stream, our feelings voice our emotions. We have our river of tears…… flowing together.
– C.A. Thomas