Silence,

the joy of quiet silence,

Peace, relaxion, the house, minus noise,

once filled with the laughter of children

now filled with the snores of children sleeping,

happiness

alone,

the way of the servant is a road marked with pain, and sacrafice

as I stare into the flames, I feel those within me fade,
falling quiet,

silent
afraid

afraid to feel, 
afraid to live
Afriad it could be real, it could work,

but it won't,
It can't

it hurts too much 

if you don't think about it, it didn't happen, some how some way I hope, I pray,

that is was all a dream that it is some sereal sleep that one day I will wake up and all will be restored

Restored back to the way it was, the way it should be

I look up and see nothing, my eyes are dark.

I look down, staring intensly at the stains on the keys

I hear the clicking of keys and slowly

every so carfully the pain is numbed

One day, someday, the pain will stop

the longing will end

and then...

I will awake and

all will be restored.

I'm tired, always tired, and I hate that.  I really wish that there were times when I understood what people said and why they said it.  I want so badly to know what is going on.  That do the words mean, can't people ever use english that makes sense.  *Sigh*  I wish I got to see him more, to sit back and talk really talk.  Talking about work is not talking.  He is always so distracted.  would it work, could we make it work,  I guess only God and time will tell.  but still I wonder.