This Grey Pigeon

There is nothing more complex than the Earth;

All its mysteries.

Yet,

The perfect environment for the human to inhabit

while to them who dwell its rugged terrain

It inhibits.

The perfect experimental place, the bridge between worlds.

It is where both Heaven and Hell collide

and also where they live side by side.

And based on this

It is up to us to choose in which

we will reside.

For me,

I live constantly escaping both sides.

They,

Who try to crown themselves Kings.

Two eyes.

Who think they are right.

Ignoring the fact that they might both be wrong.

And despite,

go on to fight

One another.

Two Hawks now hover over the painted grass

now just grass of two colors,

Colors that don't exist.

Just values.

I jump from patches of glowing white

to molten dark spots on the cow colored earth;

My little feet dodging the two hawks

that chase

this grey pigeon.

Staying away from the crows.

Staring at the doves

who bathe in false holiness.

Admired by millions of rashly splattered ones whose wounds range in blacks and whites;

That lie dead but trapped in their corpses.

But none like me,

Grey

Grey, like the twilight in which I dwell

Unseen

Escaping.

Long have I contemplated letting this world go.

I fear not seeing the light, or the darkness that awaits the end of a life.

What I fear is the pain that comes before death.

The moment when one of the hawks is victorious in clasping its talons deep within my flesh,

revealing my true colors.

Colors that rot

when they meet

the senseless oxygen they had been hiding from

exposing me

all my life

terrestrial, colorblind, fog-like filter

the winning of one false side

and the ultimate doom

Of this grey pigeon.