Sometimes I dream,
That I have precious little wings,
Wings of purest gray,
Since wings are always gray.
But one night I dreamed,
Of falling feathers,
Now white and black,
Since wings are always gray.
I tried to fly away,
Away from The artificial hope,
And into the truth,
Since wings are always gray.
But I found the dream,
Being brought to me,
Borne on broken wings,
Since they were always gray.
Everything nowadays seems so artificial... The real world must be full of pain and sorrow; full of seas of red and fallen dreams, dreams that come borne on broken wings. I close my eyes and can only imagine what this real world might be. But when I open my eyes, another view assaults my senses. This world I view is like a white light, so brightly contrasting the darkness that I find behind closed eyes. In this world of white hope and white dreams, there is a facade of smiling faces and charitable acts. This world is falling, but that is hidden by our ignorance and desire to remain so. Sometimes I wish life were simpler, that I could believe in the streaming sunshine and clean winds. But it can't be, because I know, and have always known, that wings are always gray.
((A friend of mine didn't know what I meant by 'wings are always gray', so I thought I should put in something explaining what I meant, even though I would rather not. I hate misinterpretation more than these kind of comments. Anyhoo, wings are represent the human pshyche, if you believe that humans have soul, you could call it that if you wanted to. A lot of people, mainly those with Christianity in their background, believe that there are definite lines between good and evil, black and white. But I believe that everyone is a mix between these two, with both of the good and evil characteristics. It just depends on which one is more evident, but both of them are there. Thus, I believe people are a mix of black and white, in other words, gray. Thus, 'wings are always gray'))
