beautifully gray

the light in
my bed-
room is
shut off
and the
glass in
my
hand is
empty and
stained
and the news
say the
same thing
and the songs
sing
the same
thing
but where
are the
souls
or the lesser
of the few
who know
and will never forget?

so few
of them will
truly speak
and what a
beautifully gray
morning it is.