Siren's Siren

Like tinted glass you emerge, influential to both you and I, thought to give an otherworldly shade while keeping the dark colorlessness close. But, oh, how from humble acceptance can you invert this shadeless mirage, unknowingly, unwillingly coloring this world. Teasing those of us undeniably foolish enough, filled with a black, deafening silence of our own, to yearn steadfast, in pursuit of naught but illusion. To reach and run further. To scream and plea greater. To deny the aforementioned hope that so defines the base purpose of illusion. And as those of us waste away in wonder, contemplating the causes of our ceaseless action or the precursors to our lack thereof, who ponders the fate of the siren? Where is the internal color for the sought after? When will their plea for completion be heard? Unbound by ulterior motive, how can they ever truly be seen as humbled? Or in retrospect were they ever so different? Can our desire and the desired live on common ground? Playing opposing roles in the mind of one another, each reaching, each running, both hoping. And is the solution, to be put simply, misunderstood? Maybe love is the greatest hoax of all. But then again, maybe seeing color and hoping fully, and constantly seeing more is the love this collective people need or ever wish will keep us true and grant us motive to continue.