Come to me with your substance
Let me hear your words
Let your worth be a banner
Let all manner of tomfoolery
be underlaid with meaning
Let us laugh and then share one of those moments
Where silence can indeed say it all
Silence and a falling teardrop
caressing your cheek
and singing the song of love
Carrying in its path the tale of war wounds
and broken hearts
and hearts that keep on living.
The substance of tears
may just be the substance of soul
Set free for the short journey
You could catch it with your tongue
and carry that soul within
Or just let it soak back into the ground
substance matter mass
You are always with us.
All will be well, and all will be well, and all manner of things will be well.