Tears only know heartache, but associate with joy. I know for a fact that you and I have the rose petals I used to wipe the tears of others, in our garden. But as I begin to grow new roses, you begin to understand entitlement and love. Joy. Joy is never what you expect it to be, but it is always so sweet. Sweeter than the last drop of nectar that drips from the peach, you devoured when we spent hours enjoying the beautiful creation, our God has given us. A place where only you and I can enter. Wake up, wake up. I closed my eyes, for too long. So. Open, remember I said that.