we wade in the grey
sometimes falling flat, face
hurtling deep in dismay,
but we’re fine with that.
anything’s better than the black.
anything but the sinking
sand; the noose round neck,
wrists wrung, and silent screaming.
anything but. thank you for the red
which broke through to grey and,
will to white. now no longer dead,
we will rise to the endless, in the end.
branded with the foolish cross,
o people of the grey, come to fight!
come join the fray! we suffer no loss
in seeking the white, o glorious light!
