You do not see the river of mourning because it lacks one tear of your own.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
Mourning is not forbidden, you know.
Tears are the silent language of grief.
There is no grief like the grief that does not speak.
Can I see another's woe, and not be in sorrow too? Can I see another's grief, and not seek for kind relief?
My tears will keep no channel, know no laws to guide their streams, but like the waves, their cause, run with disturbance till they swallow me as a description of his misery.
To mourn is to wonder at the strangeness that grief is not written all over your face in bruised hieroglyphics. And it's also to feel, quite powerfully, that you're not allowed to descend into the deepest fathom of your grief - that to do so would be taboo somehow.
Perhaps grief is not about empty, but full. The full breath of life that includes death. The completeness, the cycles, the depth, the richness, the process, the continuity and the treasure of the moment that is gone the second you are aware of it.
I get inhabited by a character and then you mourn it. There's a period of mourning for me, definitely.
I do not weep: I loathe tears, for they are a sign of slavery.
For pleasures past I do not grieve, nor perils gathering near; My greatest grief is that I leave nothing that claims a tear.