Perpetual Grey

in a different shade of the perpetual grey, seen sometimes tomorrow and often today. what wonders do lie in the pastures wide-- doomed are we lest we stifle our pride. but there rises the sun on golden fingers of power, silently signalling the end of yesterday's hour. the rippled rays cascade over unlit land, divulging its details to the touch of the eye's hand. and there stood I--back facing the sun, eyes closed watching what you hadn't won. it's very cold this far from before. it's very hard for me to ignore. you who suffer through the electric season stay satisfied as sheep through your lack of reason. try another guise that doesn't suit you well, fall into formation as strikes the soldier's bell. laughing I turn away from your aid as you sink in the ship you yourselves made. you stole an apple from the evening tree, its crisp red colour faded completely. written today in no books of code, the silent citizen's path is never a road. but the sun returns its forever lasting light and the pasture again is plunged into night.