Tears Like Dogs

I'm glad my tears make trails that yours can follow,
For, though my tears may wind their way, like dogs,
Through tunnels nameless, numberless, and cold,
And though, like dogs, they find each other lost,
And wet, and worried, in the rain, know this:
That rain, those tears the angels shed at having
Lost their own, can, just like mine, be traced to
Underground, where, seeping skyward in a
Sleeping world, they bloom and dance like flowers
In the sky. But don't be fooled. Nor mine
Nor angels' tears can of their own dividing
Power bloom. Remember this: That power which
Becomes the days of May, lives always, and in every
Way: This heart, this moment, and this day.
I'm glad my tears make trails that yours can follow.
I'm glad my heart can be a home for yours.