What is reality but a gray day
Intruding on the fantasy of rainbows delight
Cold gray fog clouds the mind
Clawing its way in as it pounds to shreds
The shards of shattered sentiment.

But that nothingness that is reality
Serves as a reminder
A remnant of past incursions of itself
Alive and well as a virus
Inhabiting the nether reaches of the mind.

A layer of cold emptiness
Nesting
Awaiting the opportune moment to come alive
And be rebirthed as if to taunt the spirit.

The seashore holds no peaceful solace on days such as this
Nor does the forest green
For they are painted from the same brush
Dipped in the gray of reality
Burnished with truth's harshness
And framed within the boundless confines
Of unconditional love.

And so it is that I write of reality
Knowing nothing of life's true reality
But seeking still
That elusive rainbow
That rainbowed reality
That exists for us all
Somewhere.

"All I ask of you is forever to remember me as loving you"