Strings of Sadness
Sweet cello tears dripping
from the walls of the caves,
rolling over rocks and flesh,
the crying earth,
the weeping trees,
the dying flowers,
the tombs of the soldiers
as the earth sobs,
rolled up in a fetal ball
inside the pain and pulse,
strings of sadness in harmony,
the orchestra inside the heart,
the cellos conjuring up the past
when the flowers died,
when the earth laid to rest
in the catacombs,
when the rivers ran
out of themselves,
sweet cello tears inside the walls
contented in their sorrow,
music of the throbbing eyes,
gardens of sympathy blooming,
beauty in the sadness,
beaute de tristesse,
a moving in the stolid soul,
the melting of the iron hearted,
fire in the midday slumbering,
torches inside the spirit
illuminating the mossy paths,
beauty squinting in the light,
sticking out its proud chest,
blowing off the dust,
arriving when the cellos play,
when the overture begins to cry,
when the beauty comes through
as the mood begins to tell a story
with the sweet sadness of the strings,
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