Songs Between My Tears

Drifting helplessly into strange, foreign lands, I find myself humming an old folk tune in fragments interspersed with tears, music being the only thing I can think of to numb my pain.

_Every healing word I know is void Watching silence greet every desperate cry Everything we shared, everything we said Watching memories freeze as they pass me by_

That age-old poet had thought he was singing about failing to win back a lover who had left him, but to me the words now take on a completely different meaning. The birds in the trees lining the riverbank sing their own tunes. Happy, joyful tunes. They have no idea what they are talking about.

I hum another ancient song.

_How do I build from impossible stones; Where's the ground to hold them? How do I walk from infinity home After wandering there?_

The impossible stones are the things you never prepare for, never admit are possible, because they're too terrible to contemplate until they happen. And infinity is the distance to a place that doesn't exist anymore.