The Grays

Posted on by Tai Woodville

The Grays

The grays are worse than the blues…
At least you can write a song
about the rich cobalt-feeling of sadness.

The grays settle like a cloak of smoke,
leaving you voiceless and dry-eyed,
with nothing so satisfying as a good cry.

The grays have nothing to give,
not even tears. Wraith-like,
they confuse the mind,
veiling the eyes,
covering the world.

2 thoughts on “The Grays”

    1. I figured I might as well name them…the sun-starved refrain of midwinter in a place like the Pacific North West. I’m glad you feel they were accurately named. 🙂

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Mover, shaker, magic-maker. Writer, dreamer, singer/composer, philosopher. I majored in literature & creative writing at UCSB's College of Creative Studies, from which I graduated in 2002. I write a philosophy blog called "Parallax Journal: The Quester's Companion," and my book of poems, "Pollen," is available online at Finishing Line Press (published under Tai Carmen). I believe it is the duty of every human being---and specifically every dreamer, sensitive & independent thinker---to personally awaken to their highest calling in order that the collective might begin to wake into the next level of consciousness, which is essential for our survival as a species.