In between clouds of gray
where years pause and you shall
stay in the reeling of time, day by day.
Time calluses hands, the debt too heavy to repay
and only Atlas holds the plastic ball,
forever in between clouds of gray.
Think of placid needs and what you have to pay
to not leave. Walk to the edge and fall
into the reeling of time, day by day.
Wingèd Icarus, fly away!
Do not fear the colours that call
to you in between the clouds of gray.
Hurry day! Do not delay,
for time passes into night’s shawl
where it is spent, day by day.
Through the mist where the years lay,
the yearning for worriless colours is dismal
in between weighted clouds of gray
where [worthless fears] of time reels, day by day.