Is not a flood, nor an ocean, or a tide.
Grief is a dam made of bricks and mortar.
Holding back a river of happiness.
Grief holds memories, and time, and darkness.
Until the baking sun dries the supporting connections.
Grief crumbles and is transformed into red dust.
It can no longer hold the waters, which have long since turned to vapor.
Grief then, has passed away.
Dies a slow and painful death, and nothing