Weep

And at times, when you do don that armchair, or sit in a lea under a tree where not a single shaft of sunlight fall upon your lap, look back… through the vicissitudes of time and into the passage of past. And in this solitude, in this forlorn longing, when you feel the void and a growing lump in your chest… twist your arms, clutch your hands, twirl your toes, thump your feet and weep: to a friend or a neighbour as you wish, over a phone or under the bough in lone. Weep until your arms, your hands, your toes regain its rest; weep until your feet are worm. Weep until you find repose: to rise and walk unto daylight.