A Streak of Grey

in once bronze hair

A year into an alien world. A year of ever-growing confusion. A year of many mortifying thoughts and few hopeful glimpses. A year to provoke the one that just unravels. And maybe others as days and times go by.

Not knowing all around.

The nights a series of broken sleeps. Darkness in many subtle shades and lucid dreams that twine between fluid dimensions. Tears of pain and sorrow permeating the battered pillows that behold still hope.

Tomorrow no longer a sunlit arrival between clouds and rain, but an exhausting haul with stuff to errand. Walls, the roofs that once meant home, often now a narrow cell with its doors ajar but just a tiny bit.

Old pals and new in retreat in their secluded lives. Little distraction into the seasons to come. With minds still merging and drifting high, to distant realms and courageous spins. Restless with the urge to stretch.

The silence that creeps in, no matter who’s around. Often relentless and with a brutal noise so hard to own. In all there is, yet silence as a loyal friend. Embrace the longing, needy soul.

A streak of grey in once bronze hair an instant hint of craving calmer days and deeper rests. The time that gnaws the aged youthness to the bones with nothing left to wonder but a wishful…