So many people long to be seen, to be heard. Mountains of phrases and planets of words. Static and sizzling the ends of my nerves. . .


    When the sun gets too bright, and my eyes burn with light, I wait for a storm or the coming of night. Where the black’s not so black and the white’s not so white, and the calmness of Grey seeps into sight. . .


     Grey is a color but more than just seen, it’s a color I hear with my mind and my being. It’s like something and nothing, refreshing and clean. It resounds thru my soul leaving all thoughts serene.


     Grey is also a feeling, a soft whisper of wind. It’s the fog all around me I long to befriend. A blessed shroud against all the colors I binge. My escape, my relief when the colors won’t blend.


     Inside my soul there’s a longing for peace. A longing for silence a yearning for sea. When the crowds swell too large on the small, colored beach. . . I go out to the Grey where the static can’t reach. And I think of the words that my Savior would teach, as I stroll through the fog leaving leeches to leach.


     Some call it strange but for me it’s ok. My favorite color to escape to is GREY.


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