The hollow world I live in's black and white.
Forget that. Everything is tones of grey,
From dandelions to a starry night,
Thalassic waves, as they roll from the bay.
I long for vibrant yellow, of the sol,
A legendary dye, it exists not,
Though not unlike the others: mythical.
And yet they rest, inside my mind, unwrought.
I long to see colours I never saw,
But if I act, but if I see this gold,
Then others bombard, 'til palinoia
Is all I am, though not so numbly cold.
I safely hide from lessons not I'll learn.
Cachéd I stay, though for gold I yearn.
They say the world used to turn. They say that night would follow day in an endless dance. They say that dawn rose, dusk fell, and we worshiped both sun and stars.
That was a long time ago.
The dance has died. The world has fallen still. We float through the heavens, one half always in light, one half always in shadow. Like the moth of our forests, one wing white and the other black, we are torn.
My people are the fortunate. We live in daylight, blessed in the warmth of the sun. Yet across the line, the others lurk in eternal night, afraid... and alone in the dark.
I was born in the light. I was sent into darkness. This is my story.