There's no necessity tor crying,
                    endless tears that
                     drop like mighty rain.
I have already passed the point
                     of existing in harmony
                     with the circle of health.
Better to cross over to the real world.
Leave the wringing of hands
                    to those who need to
                     advertise their melancholy.

Church bells ring, ponderous sounds
                      that champion the living
                       fabric of Holy Mother Church.
The true faith that guides its citizens
                   through the mess of the earth.
I celebrate with prayer.
I welcome the protection
                of God in His ongoing love.

Crying does not   revive the dead,
              or bring solace to the dying.

Endless cups of wishes filled with
                littered drops of gratitude.
Never ending liquids that wet the
                dirt roads of ongoing traffic.

Follow me to my resting place.
Drop a flower on the ground.

If you must, cry.
Do so knowing
            that the tears
                are wasting
                  away and help
                        only the survivors.