There is a certain sadness that we each recognize.
We never have to speak of it. We know it through our eyes.
We see it in the faces. It’s known without a word.
Our souls are always speaking, and every soul is heard.
We see it as we watch them unknowing of our gaze.
There recalling private pains or much remembered days,
or worrying of here and now, the eyes twitch anguishedly,
or corners of the mouth concerned with what is yet to be.
Face to face we know it in lines etched upon the skin.
Chiseled heartache after heartache under veils so worn and thin
that no one need deny it, there is no need to guess
the reasons for our sorrows and that certain aching sadness.
Such certainty is always there as plain as plain can be.
To deny such sadness is to pretend to never see.
So never fail to face it or you may fall to madness
if you try to turn away from that certain sadness.