Ceiling
06/03/2020
The black ceiling calls,
The silence aborbs all.
The thoughts are just dying,
But that black ceiling is memorizing.
In it you see a future you desire,
Now all burned up in greed’s fire.
There’s even smiles of the past,
But now they aren’t around, they didn’t last.
The gray ceiling begins to bloom,
This bed begins to feel like a tomb.
“You’re alone,” your mind repeats,
It’s reconfirmed as your heart alone beats.
The gray isn’t the black,
But doesn’t mean it stops you from wanting to go back.
How do you step forwards from this place?
So much is lost. So much more to face.
But then the white ceiling arrives.
Night is over. You survived.
Being alone can be, being strong.
The past may be full of hurts and wrongs.
But the present, it is a gift.
Time to heal and the wrongs to lift.
No matter how long the black,
Or the gray that always comes back.
The white will always come with the sun.
A reminder the despair hasn’t won.
Thoughts lost in Traffic 