Sorrow’s the vessel that takes in all pain,
It holds every wound through the storm and the rain.
The deeper the hurt, the more beauty it brings,
My ache is one’s laugh, to another’s it sings.
Rocks turn to diamonds when crushed under weight,
Gold shines through fire that burns out the hate.
Now sacred – it stands in sacrifice’s temple,
Where sorrow walks steady, though inwardly it trembles.
Its alchemy turns grief to pure, timeless gems,
Rewards us with bliss that our spirits consume.
From emotions’ dark melee, these treasures emerge,
My sole consolation when sorrows resurge.