Grey Is Not

Grey is not Green,

Overjoyed with itself,

Frolicking in the vast expanse of its creativity,

Playing tricks of the mind upon itself ad nauseum,

Purely for the sport of it;

Grey struggles to see the boundaries, let alone reach beyond,

Grey struggles to create without a guide,

Grey struggles to allow its mind to open up

To the unceasing potential that is the Spectrum.

Grey is not Red,

Violently loving and passionate,

Staring into its heart and knowing that it fits,

Able to carve its place into other's minds,

Make comfort from as little as dust

Grey struggles to make such an impression,

Grey struggles to find an angle,

Grey struggles to commit crimes of love or of passion,

Grey struggles to allow its heart to open up

To the infinite valley of Spectral Love.

Grey is not Blue,

Extending itself outwards to make wonders,

Crafting sublimity with every minute movement,

Making feelings bound from chests to swirl around the room,

Creating the music of the Heavens;

Grey struggles to entertain,

Grey struggles to be entertainable,

Grey struggles to conceive that it might be the centre of attention,

Grey struggles to suffice,

Or so it thinks within itself.

Grey tries to be Green,

It tries to be Red,

It tries to be Blue.

But Grey struggles to be bound by those labels.

Grey enjoys its inadequacy, its inability to be limited,

Its lack of focus is Grey's favourite part of itself.

Because without being Green, or Red, or Blue,

Grey is able to be them all.

Neither White, the perfect coagulation of all,

Nor Black, the absence of care or of drive,

But Grey.

Spread thin, and enjoying it.