(I had a vision on the ride in to work this one morning, of a single tear that refused to fall. As I peered deeper…it grew to encompass myself and envelop all that surrounded me.
An entire separate reality… another world… within a single tear)
The tear that would not fall …
too proud to let go. In dry deserted places he found comfort among the lost and broken. A tenuous fellowship, for he still remained a bit of an outsider even among them. He could roam freely here and they made a way for him, allowed him free access within a perverse reality. A curiosity among curiosities, a point of ridicule that stood out among the ridiculous. Made them feel better about themselves to have him around and he happy to be accepted, obliged.
But… that tear continued to grow and still did not fall. His head began to stoop, his legs grew weak from the gravity of it all. And he stood out even more, a sad tragic comedy even among the heartless. He was good for a laugh, perhaps that’s why he was left alone. Even satan himself doesn’t kick a dead horse. In his condition they assumed he was no real threat to them and entertaining to keep around. No one knew where he came from, he just kind of wandered in disoriented one day, and seemed to almost fit in. He certainly was good for comic relief, sometimes outright hilarity and pratfalls. Till one day he stumbled on a rock and the tear was jarred loose. It seemed to fall in slow motion and they all turned to look and screamed Nooooooo! They scrambled and dove to catch it but it fell upon the dry encrusted earth and was immediately absorbed. They ganged up on him and bullied him to a pulp where he stood all the while shouting, “What have you done… you fool?!” He lay there bleeding on the ground left for dead. Below him, a crackle and spark, the ground beneath him tremored, almost seemed to groan. A seed that had lain dormant awoke. Over the following years it flourished, wrapped around him, lifted him up, eventually bearing fruit. A strange sight now that stood out and could be seen from afar across “miles and miles of desolation”. To some, still a bit of an enigma. Other’s called him “a walking miracle”. Some were afraid of him, other’s detested him. Many thought him to be demon possessed. Not too concerned anymore about those who lean on their own understanding. Not even given a second thought. Very misunderstood was he. Either way, a spectacle that still drew the eye. On his own he could not answer the call,
but his tormented silent prayers were at last delivered Welled up…
In the tear that would not fall.