In the search for a safe haven

I refuse to open my eyes–

For it was too bright,

And the stars are only visible at night

Red is too passionate, too endearing

Yellow too uplifting, too pretentious

Orange is too joyous, too ignorant

And everything else is too exhausting to keep up with

I’d rather

Plant flowers of grey–

Safe within my indecision, 

Safe within the ambiguity

I am waiting in this barren land,

Counting the days until the Sun comes,

Because they said, ‘it will, it will’

And I’m worn out, saying ‘it will, it will’

But I need not wait–

For I am not a fool

Who wishes for rainbows and butterflies

In the midst of a rainstorm

I’d rather

Wait for the sky to clear,

Waltzing alongside the raindrops

And its hymn of Sorrows 

Safe in the embrace of mediocrity

Befriending melancholy,

Replenished within the monsoon showers 

Admitting defeat, 

Surrendering to where the stream will take me:

Where the dead fishes go

Where the spiritless depart