Greys, Part Vi
Greys, Part VI
Each day we wake little changed,
But the Force that rests Unmoving
At the center of our rturbulent souls
Remains, as ever, the sane,
In the end, love for one another
And for our kind
Must become the final, only Sacrament
We offer for salvation from ouselves
Love, such as we feel for our children
For its own sake, and no other.
We must come to feel this,
Or be content to perish.
Meantime the world awaits the outcome
Of our slow deliberations.
And turns and turns
Biding time and progressing as everr
In its neverending fermentatoin of the dead,
Its transfiguration of form into non-form
And back again
Biding time and awaiting the fruition of our thoughts.
To be alive is to have desires
To be aware is to be confused
As to the best way to obtain desire and confusion
Know that to be human is to embrace the uncertain,
To stare boldly into the fields of grey
And try to discerne the shapes, the subtleties
The Substance and the Structure
That lays the foundations of our dreams.
So we look back into ourselves in reflective moments
And see all the parts of ours souls
That lay nearest the naked Truth
Immersed in the mist of the Shade not hopeless,
But sombre,
Floating part by disjointed part,
Drifting in fragmentary association
Suspended in the rainsky color
The color of doubt.
In the end, all will be well,
In the end we will all learn to listen
To voices in the rain and its windy sighings,
To the language that the Earth speaks to its children,
The tones vague and soothing, that address the spirit,
The sussuruss of life in decay and generation,
Balanced like daylight and nightdark
On the edges of space
When we listen like children to the song of their Mother:
All will be well, deep in the midst of the grey.
Copyright © William Masonis | Year Posted 2018
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