The Slight Nuances of Grey

We are not congruent, but we are not so different either.

The poison seeks effortlessly for the open stream.

The difference is negligible, your time has not been partitioned.

To seek the solace of nature, to rest the mind of stress and pollution.

The movement is absurd, your arms must be dangling with weight.  

The intrepid journey hangs it's head, the haul is far too heavy.

A sigh of relief as night absconds the day.

We grow old with senility, in an attempt to protect and preserve our shell.

How fragile life can be, the irony in its duality.

They tell us we go to a better place, but I'm not sure I believe them.

On the day of departure, we will diligently bask in the mistakes we've made.

Time is a delicate subject, we impatiently proceed with caution.

Life is a spiral, a never-ending continuous flow of the dead and the alive.

Do not give in to the temptation of the cycle, or else you will forget why you are here.

Be patient as we all have a set time for passing.

Sometimes time does not heal the deepest of wounds.

But we may only breath deeply because everyday is a representation of the gift of life.

Z. Z. Z.