So Tonight I Fall Into The Gray... Poem by Mimi Mata

Smoke your cigarette and speak of mundane things,
As the smoke evades I think of a solemn soul;
Somewhat mystifying and disinterred...

I am not engaged in these controversial aspects,
I only am dreaming of something that can be real.

What is understood; what is not understood?
Make your way through me,
In my valley of 'miss touch me nots'...
Their heads held high,
Then withering at the slight swift touch,
Of your many questioning passerby.

There are certain ways to touch fragile things...

So do you question the ripple made by your hand in a cold stream?
Why is it the heads of a moon flower only recognize the moon?
Whichever, way, some things are only left to be admired...

And please don't silence me in my madness,
You cannot stop a quake when it happens;
Just find refuge in my open spaces...

And so I find you there;
You see I have been disgraced,
Somewhere along my parallels of black and white...

So tonight I fall into the gray.

Black is to solid for my sometimes transparency,
And white cannot hold the heaviness of what disassembles;
I like the devil's advocate,
That can't make any sense within my separated fields...

So tonight I fall into the gray,
Somewhat mystifying and disinterred,
And as the smoke evades I think of a solemn soul...
Dreaming of something that can be real.