Green to Gray
Green to Grey
I have before seen flowers spruced such to convey meaning,
And I have before been offered a rose,
Of tantalizing beauty.
But I sit here in a meadow of dandelions,
(The weeds of a flower)
For the world had left them unkept.
I do not see tomorrow through the glass made today,
Instead, I watch the moon shift in the sky,
And I pray.
Pray for a Better world,
Where the green goes to gray,
Or perhaps my life, to become transparent.
I don't know the meaning of a pasture with little roots,
Hidden beneath the festering soil.
Funny isn't it?
How I can't see the stars’ fluorescent sheen behind the moon,
Or perhaps how it offers guidance without meaning,
All while shadowing the oceans of a world not once before established.
I guess my point is this:
If you walk in a meadow,
Looking at the Daisies,
Begging for the red of a rose to pop out of the sea of pedals,
I implore you to watch the wind shift throughout the day,
As it moves from Green unto gray.
As the blacks fade into white,
Little can be pronounced from a shade of red,
How it penetrates the skin.
I do not regret the taking of that rose,
Or the picking of a daisy,
I will, instead, watch the world before me swift in melody,
Forgiving the wind for its brutal movement.
Why detest the moon for covering my view?
For it’s the thing that blinds a man of great stature,
Which makes necessary to grow and become what is meant to be.
And what develops from deep beneath a layer of bloody skin,
Will take hold of the stars.
For I suppose,
The stars twinkle for a reason.
Drift along the sea,
(A petal of a violet)
Contrast with the ocean’s tides,
And never do forget,
The rocks that lay below,
Have been eroded by the ages,
faded far beneath a grimy surface.
For it’s a triumph,
From green until gray.