Suffering Fellowship

There is the martyr known to self alone... reaching forth to snare a taunting hurt, itself suspended in a void and waiting for its glory. But, martyrs make for poor angelic messengers, it seems. There is this gift of weeping cemented in a priceless moment as a jewel to a ring-- possessed, and then imparted to another. Here the weak grow strong and blessed frailty alone may dissipate persistent clouds which yet obscure the face of God. Here the backward look sustains and bares fulfillment of a need. Break this protective shell, and know the power of pain in other eyes and hearts. Clearly, jewels of tears, though dried, can never bear a price. And memory, an empty box without them. For here the teardrop shared effects a marriage indissoluble, a trust that focuses of loss and gains a cosmic soul. ~