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.