What would it look like if there was no sorrow to contend
with?
Would you be moved and drawn to beauty or take it for
granted?
Would a story be impressive or inspiring if all
things had been content and easy?
Would a challenge even be a challenge if no one had the
capacity to comprehend it?
Could love be tormenting and torrid and as equally
transforming and transcendental?
Could a mark upon your heart be present to remind you to
heed the lonely road of self-betrayal?
Could a mood change and swing so fast that time stood still
to allow for extremes in comparison?
How would happiness feel if no heartache were known?
How different would that feel from wearing socks everyday or your hair on your head?
How would a tear be categorized and what mark in a moment
does it make? Joy or joyous joy?
How would you know your soul wasn't lost in the crowd of assimilating to numb?
What would it look like if there was no sorrow to contend
with?
It would look like the manila wafer, soggy and bland
or the grey soot-covered
snow, and the barren river valley where water once could flow.
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