The first I found sometime in England, I don't remember when exactly, but it's one of my favorites. The original source is here. For my own purposes, here it is in full:
scientists tell us that all water
is old water,
that there is no room for originality,
that everything is recycled.
the anguish of Achilles bleeding out
face-down in the Trojan dirt
mingles with that of a stockbroker caught
in the ebb and flow of the markets,
and what I am trying to say is that the tears
navigating south through the canyons on your face
may have once wet the cheeks
of Alexander the Great
for the same reason.
To me, this is a strong statement of emotion, connecting all people across time and space. Since water is a constant and goes through the same cycles again and again, and we, or at least I, have been told water that starts where I am, in a month could be across the globe. It is not crazy, then, to think water has been recycled from the beginning of time, or earlier, given the arbitrary nature of time.
It is the same concept of all of us being made from the matter of the stars, we are made of stardust. I am made from the same particles that have been around from the beginning, whenever--however--that was. As easy as it would be to feel despair at the enormity of the universe and each individual's insignificance in the face of enormity, instead I feel awed.
Which is the same feeling I get from this work. When I am troubled, or sad, or furious, the tears that grace my face could be the same particles that wound down the face of any person who came before me and was troubled, or sad, or furious. When I am alone, or feel alone, I am not truly alone. Nothing is new. No thought. No feeling. I may feel alone, but I am not the first person to feel that way. And that gives me hope.
After all, as Charlotte Bronte said, "crying does not indicate that your are weak. Since birth, it has always been a sign that you are alive."
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