monument

The Grey Areas

A murder of crows scatter high above an open field
Cold air, quaint, not brisk
Warm enough to keep the jacket zipped up
There's solace inside temporary insanity
For once you're not in control
For once you're completely uninhibited

Washing my face in the river
I haven't showered in three days

Clarity seeks those who seek it
Yet it comes to those rather undeserving
It comes in waves; yet has no peak
Tragedy breeds love, and peace fosters war
We see ourselves not when we are closest to defeat, inches from Hell
But when we stand atop our enemies, our foot grinding their faces into the gravel

Watch not the hero, but the men who follow him
There is the character, and doubt, and fire, and all hope this world will ever need
The hero simply exists to win or be defeated
These men are much more complicated
This world is much more complicated
When black and white mix, all the colours turn grey

We all seek our own benefit
We all seek our own vanity
The trick is to cover it with good intentions
Let the goodness seep into our inner-workings
Our survival may not depend on it, but the world's will
Turn a personal challenge - a dream sought - turn it into a gift
A gift more can share
Don't try to be honest, don't try to be good
Simply stamp out the liars and evil
And leave the rest to science