Behind his crumpled form, even the flowers collapsed in a desolate solidarity. As his eyes rained, the skies cried upon them and every hue of that living photograph was greyed.
Being sad is the book of what hurts you and it takes courage to read pages inked in your own tears.
Sad is when the loving self needs healing, when it seeks sanctuary and nurture.
Sad is a chance to learn about the self, when the soul opens its windows and doors.
An honest examination of sadness can bring forth happy days.
I can pull myself to standing, I always can, yet tears come in such generous streams as I long for a hand to reach down. It's good that I can climb hearing only the echo of my feet, I just think that it would transform to something brighter all the faster in the company of friends.
I see those gravity-drawn shoulders painting a picture of your heart, as if neither it nor your soul would welcome a beat. I see in your eyes that your brain has built some new walls with you so lonely on the other side. If you'll give me a chance we can take them down brick by brick and start to feel together what it means to be a real friend.
Sad is an emotion of your inner good wolf, your angel self, and so you must as the good wolf for solutions and not 'out-source' it to the evil wolf. For love must always chose, never icy emotional indifference.
If you shine lights in the sad times you can discover the once unseen knives and render them safe.