PROSTRATE!

I cried, but no tear fell.
I wept, yet it remained a barren land.
No dew drops formed on my eyelids.
No fountain flowed down my cheeks.

A heavy veil blurred my vision.
A dark storm cloud filled my sight.
My throat battled to keep its composure.
My voice perturbed, become husky and tremulous.

Keening, I grabbed my chest, crumbling to my knees.
I let all the waves of sorrow wash over me.
Each rising tide threatened to submerge me.
They crashed upon the rock of my guarded heart.

I wailed.
Now, I bawl no more.
Spent, I am!
I am a discarded corncob emptied of its kernels of hope.