Lacrimosa

What humble handmaidens are our tears. They do not manufacture themselves in advance of our need, self-importantly assuming the need will arise. We are not forced to purge ourselves of any surfeit outside of their normal application. But when sadness musters them, they report immediately as if they had been standing on diligent watch for the moment. They flow to give dignity to our animal grunts and grimaces. They do not disgust us like other substances of our bodies' production. Without tears, we would heave and roar but never weep.