Gray

LAST night I dreamt there was a place where music wasn't just lines and dots, dollars and cents, but feeling. The breath of a taste that lingers in the mouth, whether good or bad. But maybe that's just me being cynical. Maybe I'm only attempting to maintain a shred of hope when my world is going down this whirlpool, heading down this black hole into a strange new reality I'm not afraid to admit I am scared of. Even though our scientists work daily to discover new materials to help us build our clothes or bridges to new places we had not ventured before, we have sadly flown past that time when we yet knew we knew nothing. And really, these gray areas amass and gather, dark clouds on a humble old horizon just trying to keep up with the pace.