Offhand Gray

Well, my muse of clear awareness, she'd confirmed me as confused.

I'd been gazing into starlight, feeling drained through foggy views.

She related me to sages, seeking wisdom but at sea.

She penned verse upon white pages, from some place I'd wished to be.


Thoughts quite tranquil and in flowing; words profound to all surreal.

Ways of peace found in the knowing, not unknown to how I'd feel.

Then a tear, it blurred my vision, yet no need to wipe it clear,

for at peace was my condition, just to know she still was near.


Yeah, my muse of clear awareness, may have coined me offhand gray.

I'd been drifting through life's shadows, thinking faith showed not the way.

She related me to Summer, ode to melodies and rhyme.

She bled pastels in bold colors, of God's rainbows etched in time.


All so tranquil and in glowing; scenes quite sane beyond my shame.

Ways of hope shined in the knowing, not unknown to all my pain.

And each tear that blurred my vision, brought no need to wipe them clear.

Now at ease to my condition, just to know she still was near.

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