A cure for all, so simple yet profound,
Is found where salt and water both abound.
Three forms it takes, three paths for heart and mind:
In sweat, in tears, in sea the cure we find.
The sweat of toil, our body’s honest song..
It shapes the weak, it makes the weary strong.
Each drop that falls upon the earth below
Gives proof of labor, seeds of life to grow.
The farmer’s field, the craftsman’s weary art,
Are built with sweat, with hand, with beating heart.
The tears of grief- though bitter as they fall..
They cleanse the soul and softly heal us all.
In sorrow’s flood the wounded spirit bends,
Yet in its wake the pain begins to mend.
A tear is both a burden and release,
A gentle wound that leads the way to peace.
The sea..the endless mother, deep and wide
She holds the world within her rolling tide.
Her waves can carry anger far away,
Her winds can wash the dust of grief away.
To walk her shore, to breathe her salted breath,
Is life renewed, a rising out of death.
So sweat, so tears, so sea—the holy three,
That bind our wounds and set our spirits free.
No doctor’s hand, nor potion’s costly art,
Can match these gifts that heal the human heart.