Heavenly Grey
Published on November 24, 2023by Le Mai Tan Dat
The sky is a little bit grey from my window today.
Is it a natural phenomenon, or a reflection of my sorrow?
Grey is a diffusion of black and white, Ambivalent, yet commonplace.
When I look out of my window, I wish I could be a bird, To fly across the sky, and be bereft of this ambiguity.
Yet my heart gains weight as the thought approaches, Gain weight not of muscle, but of woe.
Would the sky still look grey to me, when I were a bird?
O Schindler,
You defied deaths for countless people, only to greet death yourself.
If justice is the fairness in which people are dealt with, What is the justice that belongs to you?
If justice is the social condition in which everyone can achieve their virtues.
Have you achieved your justice?
I want to paint a rose on your grave,
But I cannot make sure of the intentions behind your actions.
Is it a true story, or a tale we love to tell?
In a world where flowers can be engineered to grow downwards, Can Conspiracy be the next Plague?
Dissipating between two worlds,
I cannot help but succumb to the comfort provided by my duties.
Making a stop here and there, the bird still flies towards its destination.
Is it where the bird should head? - I'm not sure if the bird has ever doubted.
I wonder if the sky will still be grey by then.
Perhaps,
The bird does not care to take a look.