I suppose there are two types of tired
One, a dire need of rest
And the other
A dire need of peace
For I never knew
I never fathomed
That grief feels so like fear
But your diamond eyes
Make me feel at home
Even if I know that I cannot turn people into homes
Most of the times
I keep my feelings to myself
Because no earthly language
No finite, human signature
Can possibly describe them
I cannot make everyone feel and think as I do
Because my life is mine
It is my tragedy
No ... my legacy
Because I understand them
And they do not understand me
Even if I would like to spend all of my life with you
Even if I would enjoy laughing with you forever
I would also relish in crying
And fear gripping sobs
And comforting silence
And nights that dwell in ending quietness
Because I know
That I cannot turn people into homes
For I would rather be with the Gods
Rather, be with Gods as they made me
For that is the most beautiful thing
that could be possessed in all of thinking.
