I cry when I see beauty.

Like the yellow and purple evening clouds

That sit still on the air above me.

I cry when I see brilliance.

And a heart holds more truth and intellect

Than that of my own can bear.

I cry when I am tired.

Of the noise, of the night, of the people.

Or even of my own voice.

I cry when I feel passion.

Something like the amazing shape of the trees

Or the shiver of rain that tickles skin.

But never do I cry

When I feel pain or sadness,

Because that is not what teardrops

Are for.