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The buried, broken pieces: II
The day the color faded from his sight
He only saw the world in black and white
Shades of the dreariest gray bled through
The day his soul was split in two
He salted the very ground with his tears
Which choked all the flowers growing near
No one could comfort him, young nor old
He simply refused to be consoled
The wise man and sages could not opine
The lovers and poets could make no rhyme
The prophets and dreamers saw nothing at all
The priests shook their heads and could not absolve
He knelt and he cried as he cried while he knelt
Until tears turned to crystalline shards on his cheek
At last hemorrhaging sorrow, he no longer felt
He had finally found the solace he did seek
