Joyful Tears

In quantities, our teardrops fall,
they drip off sorry faces -
resulting from our broken hearts.
We save them in our vases -
for yet another lofty dream -
another selfish rose.
Is anyone the wiser?
Now tell me no one knows.

And here, our vases set alone,
still filled with empty dreams.
Oh, everybody has them -
it's just the way, it seems.
It's popularity for some -
for others; riches, gold.
But when it's over, said and done,
their rose is dead and cold.

The tears we shed are endless,
and from our souls drawn.
We water all our selfish wants -
then later wish them gone.
We hold our very special vase -
we think of only 'me' -
but rather where still waters are -
our tears of joy should be.

Do roses last forever?
There is a day they die -
then scattered are the pieces of
the heart that happens by.
Lost pieces, scattered everywhere -
forever, broken are -
and at the end of shattered dreams,
there's one eternal scar.

When in, our earthly dreams, we live,
regret is always sure -
for when we grow our selfish rose,
it simply won't endure.
I often wonder why we work,
and waste away the years -
accomplishing so little with
such lonely, painful tears.

So walk beside still waters.
Through joyful tears you'll see -
a grace that never wavers and,
a faith that's also free.
And if your faith is watered
and grows from day to day -
there's really nothing more to do -
for joyful is the way.