Yesteryear Fiction

Soul of Tears
By K. Barnes


“My tears are not the bitter tears of the unseen, the unheard.” She said. “My tears are the basis of my soul, my self, and the soul of the world, the soul of all things.” I remember the soft warmth of her hand as I took it, stroked the lines there as if to open them. Eyes rose to meet mine, soft and alive, as warm as her hands.

“Come,” I said. “Let us build a new soul for the world. Let us build a soul based not on tears, but on smiles and laughter.


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Lord Barnes is alive and well in the hearts of literati everywhere.