The Heavy Balance
Why is the world viewed
in bland and restraining grey?
It holds no purpose except
to remain in the shadows
which are cast upon us,
by the walls built to keep us in.
You say that your eyes hold this unremarkable grey?
Well I say they are like the rumbling storm clouds
thundering over the ocean in the midst of a hurricane.
Never are they just black and white
muddled together to form something so in between.
So why not fight back with those storm clouds-
no-
with those raging thunder claps which you view the world through?
Why not aim to send your waves forth,
to erode and waste away
this oppression of such a boring colour?
Why not smite those monsters,
who throw this dark veil over your eyes to keep you blind,
who build a wall so that you may explore this exciting world
with those electric irises,
which desire to see the blinding yellow rays of sun;
the joyous blue of Atlas' burden;
the shapes which drift by,
floating to another place to give life,
to provide the rains which cleanse the grey from our pink skin,
and to send away the burning smoke which clouds our eyes.
Grey is only in our imagination,
because no one can stop us from seeing the brightness,
the darkness,
tinged with blue sorrow,
with red anger,
with yellow glory and joy.
All that separates us
from these marvelous hues,
are the walls
that have been built around you.
YOU ARE READING
A Little Poetry Can't Hurt
PoetryThis is just some random poems that I have written over the years.
