Tears of joy, tears of sorrow,
Some today, some tomorrow.
Different states, different tempests,
Yet emotions stir in endless quests.

The brain is sharp—it knows too well,
Why…? It reads the tale we tell.
It scans the storm, both dark and bright,
A flood of feelings, day and night.

The only way the soul can speak,
Truthful words, both strong and meek.
It never lies, it never bears,
Yet suddenly flows with silent stares.

Tastes like salt—no bitter, no sweet,
A drop so pure, yet so discreet.
Pouring from the contours wide,
With healing power locked inside.

One small tear, yet worlds concealed,
A touch, a whisper—all is healed.
Believe me, these drops unseen,
Are worth more than gold has been.