It’s a gray kind of day
one of those moments that could be any time really
sort of endless. A perfect setting for which our story to begin
or end, depending on which way you read it.
Through the misty grayness came people,
from all lands, all with a purpose, with a burning fire in their hearts
if they could save this land
keep it clean of the scum that constantly pillages and destroys it.
Then I realize this grayness is the morning haze that surrounds my mind
I am only dreaming
in a barren landscape void of creativity, fueled by turmoil and frustration.
I realign my spine and thoughts
summon the desert, the vast plains
sandy, cactusy nothingness that map the inner walls of my skull
I breathe slowly as the sun starts to rise.
it is only half welcome
you need to be watered to grow
like any good house plant knows
there’s a little bit of love
left dripping down my heart
standing in line
for the last time