Who can I tell of this sadness? What can I tell of it? It arrives, unattached, on two tears. It blows in like a brown leaf onto a window screen. It rudely intrudes, like the sudden bloody sight of roadkill, asking, why? Where is the story that bid the hidden sadness come? Buried as deep as the artesian well of tears that abhors the empty mind. Don’t forget me! it cries from the earth. Don’t forget the nameless sadness of life; don’t think you’ve figured it all out! Away on a sigh I send sadness off; then sit, puzzled. What is this life after all?