Nothing at all;

I struggle to find who I am, to find the reasons why.

 

People tend to see things in black and white.

 

They act like their violence is a righteous fight.

 

I'll never understand when all I see is gray in different wavelengths of light.

 

 

I see the suffering, I see the pain, the tears mix with blood, the blood with the tears.

 

The love leaks out and the hate drips from fallen faces.

 

The light in their eyes fade like the stains, the stains on their hearts evaporate to become rain.

 

Looking up I see the clouds of gray, watch the tears fall through the glass in a broken pane. 

 

They claim to fight in the name of whom they love, often for the one they see above.

 

I think to myself what a beautiful love. 

 

Love so strong as to make us sacrifice the light in our hearts.

 

 

Some will say they are wicked men.

 

Men who slay brothers, mothers, sons, and fathers.

 

All they see in them is hate.

 

The same who say this fight in the name of love.

 

Love so strong they slay brothers, mothers, sons, and fathers.

 

Leaving behind their fallen families, drained of all pigmentation, we all turn gray when we shed our own blood.

 

So what is good and what is evil?

 

The answer I find is nothing, nothing at all.

 

 

The battle never ends, devastation and occupation, blinding our eyes from hearts we brought to light.

 

We're too dark for the light and too light for the dark, so here we lie, bleeding while Yin and Yang tear us apart.

 

Forces of good and evil leave me alone.

 

Grant me the absence of both; black, white, and all in my heart.

 

Give me the thing I dream about, nothing, nothing at all;

 

Alexander J. Wolfe