How odd it is
For grey to have
Two sides - black
And white.
Grey is fear.
It is a steeled heart,
A clouded mind;
Even a shadowed soul.
It haunts and lurks;
Heavy eyelids,
Dredging feet,
Over cast skies.
It seeps in
With age and time;
Wrinkled skin and
Unfocused eyes.
But grey is beautiful
It is the path in between--
The blend of monotony
With stark surprise.
It is objective,
Clear and focused,
On both the dark
And the light.
It cuts through gloom lightly,
Like a sectioned beam of light;
Collecting dust motes
And swirling away.
Neither here nor there--
'Tis the mysterious grey;
Light and supple,
As soft as time,
Slipping through fingers,
Cracks and pores,
Bringing a creaky dawn
With uncharacteristic sharpness.
A dark aura
That hangs over the doomed;
Yet a lightweight sun
Kind enough not to blind us.
No surprise then,
That grey is but
A streak of black
And a dab of white.
-Nicky Eira
3:56 PM, 14th April 2010
