If we can produce enough tears

From the ocean that wells up inside of us

When we are overwhelmed by

Joy, Wonder, Sorrow, Loss, and Love

We can sell the sun-dried product

At Market

In our tiny village

When the People eat the brine

That poured out of us

They will feel the stories

Course through their capillaries

About the long road traveled

Reminding them of the convergence

Instructing them to hold the light

That brought them here

To tattoo the Tierra

With their blood seeping down to the river

And the smoke of their ritual fires touching the sky

Visible in the distance to influence

The clouds that rain inside

To cultivate the crops our lachrimae will eventually accentuate