The Man Near The Fountain

 

 It was a dark and bleak wintry night
He was sobbing again near the fountain
Weeping, bitter tears of disappointment
Sadness with no signs of concealment

Shamelessly wiping those tears with his palm
With genuine looks of innocence and humility
Made him perfectly beautiful in that scenery
As an epitome of bravery despite lamentation

Weak yet strong, subtle yet genuine
What's the use of fire in the midst of rain?
To spoke of gladness yet screamed of pain
To pretend of valiance while nakedly bleeding

Winter has passed, leaves have faded
He remained sitting near the same fountain
But no longer crying but sincerely smiling
For weakest point leads to the truest strength