The Beauty of Grey.

“Who will save me?!”
Sang, that simple wailing banshee.
“Its times like these...”
she continued strumming her fingers.

As I watch, silently following every twitch.
I listen, learning to live again.
As I feel, the rush of emotion within.
I sing, accompanying the crescendo...

She looks and with a glint beckons,
I think she knows what it’s like to be us
To be the one that gives over and beyond.
I see her soul and it’s grey, it is mine all wrapped in one.

We take over now, together and apart.
I don’t think I belong here.
She doesn’t seem to care for that part.
And, for once I do not fear.

As she gets up in a trance by the fire of our making,
I let them be. I let it flow all within and let myself be.
As we merge, extinguishing all form and boundaries.
Our cursed gift becomes a gifted curse.

There are no possessions in this life of ours.
There is no ownership in this relationship of ours.
There is no hatred in this world of ours.
And, there will definitely be no defeat in this game of ours.

As I’ve stumbled along while I came to terms,
She takes my breath, this banshee.
She’s not pretty. She’s not even literate.
But I think she is wise, wise beyond compare.

‘The Beauty of Grey is’ she says, ‘we are what everyone needs’.
‘The Cost of Grey is’ she reprimands, ‘we are always ugly’.