The wind is behind me, today.
The sun has gone awry.
Inch upon inch…accumulating gray.
This, the pigment of nothingness.
Opens up to all I lack.
Inevitable is all around and somber.
‘Not good enough!’ becomes less fiction…more of a fact.
How simple it would be to fade into monotony.
Colorless being the spirit of the bland.
White light disgust the lay of the land.