Gray Canvas

A Poem by Abraxasbird

Holding a grudge is like drinking poison and waiting for the other person to die.

The clouds once carefree,
clear and pristine,
Turned crude
in a blackened hue.
As they sunk somber,
their gait weighed heavy.
No longer robust, but weary.
Yes, Mother Earth was arid
but, what malice, what grimace
did those clouds carry?
What vile acid could
perturb a surrendered soul
who followed every windy impulse
amongst a canvas blue?
Where once pure,
now so rude,
so inconsiderate
of its neighborhood
compatriot.
Permitting only
grey listless light
to vaguely empathize.
Unable to weather
any more
that muddled bowser
disemboweled,
mirk cascades downward,
the unfortunate haphazard,
of heartlessness endowed;
a dirty cloud recovers;
sepsis-free vital substance
billows vital sustenance;
darkness exanimates,
that cloud whispers
"oh Mother, remember the martyr.
Let us love one another."
The Earth shivered, brighter.