Between Any Definitive

It never comes as black or white.

It comes not in colors either.

It appears as an endless spectrum of kinetics with no visible extremes.

I cogitate, move, and perceive the infinite shades of grey between any definitive,

an inexhaustible array of plausibilities, options, choices, desires, paths.

Among the spectral lies the muddy, confused grey.

There is also the brilliant, crisp silver,

the dreadful, gloomy slate,

the sinister, chilling midnight,

the lovely, promising abalone,

the ready, fearless iron,

and, (thank God), that sensual, smoky dusk.

These shades span my thoughts —

perceptible as figments, stories, confabulations, and

colliding perspectives —

the wavelengths of emotion, sensation, thought, and belief.

My mind, my considerations

rest nowhere,

along the shades of humanity,

so all has its place and a purpose.

All progressions, all stalemates

All triumphs, all breakdown

All kindness, all combat

All love, all abuse

All repugnant, all lovely

All proclamations, all whispers,

All of it allowed.

All understood.

The greys,

the spectrum of voices, types, and philosophies,

move in me and move me.

Vital.

Necessary.

It is the spectrum that I am found,

and I spend life pulling apart and parsing

braiding and creating

the wavelengths

that mark my wakefulness

sleepy transcendence

and drugged delirium.

In the shades

lives the forest beyond the tree

and the trees within the forest,

so, judgement fades and stance moves,

never quite finding a resting place.

My love, my passion, all of me -- the atoms within and the the multiverse about —

move in this rich arena of chaos,

separating as oil dripped in water

and unifying as two bodies making love,

from which comes my oscillating persona

And I call me

Pliable

Plural

Poly

Move with me in this chaos,

through this spectrum.

For I live in constant motion,

understood only when you meet the rhythm of my movement,

and join my dance amidst the greys.