Rhapsody in Gray

Rhapsody in Gray

Play me a
Rhapsody in delicate velvet Gray.
An intricate symphony adapted
for the smaller stage.

An intimate
simple subtle silvered score,
with stunning thunder underscored.
Dim and dense in roaring torrents,
Raining, Vainglorious
a storm that pours
with a chorus of incoherence.

Let it fall in a solemn opus, a soft and sober overture.
Amid a disconcerting mist, the concerto ever reoccurs.
Blurry, caped in gray, the dimming day mimics my mood.
Brooding, subdued...
I choose a close cloak of soaking seclusion,
as the fugue begins in dripping stippled confusion.
In pewter fluid euphony, the first movement begins,
the wind sends a rush of percussive drops
drumming across the car tops,
in a timorous timpanic prelude to solitude.

I walk, I pace,
drenched and draped with April's grace.
As I dare the deluge,
nothing dares to intrude, upon my thoughts.

Befogged,
Cloud-shrouded,
I hear the thousand voices of the rain.
Gray noise,
to soothe and subsume my pain.
Muted by a myriad, a diluted refrain...

Mist drizzles on splattered cats and sodden dogs,
with scattered catechisms of long forgotten gods.
They whisper in dismal disdain.
As Falling, Faith wanes,
amid novitiates of novocaine,
numb in runnels and rivulets of rain.

Immersed in shimmering obscurity,
drowned in the sound and fury...

Pure Colors meld and melt into the pelting rain.
the Sky sighs, crying til clear,
attuned to the music of the smaller spheres.
Teardrops convey gray chaos
in a flood of muddied moonstone jewels.
Such pearls abound in puddles and pools.
They gleam with a sun-spun sheen of oily dreams.
A bliss of viscid prisms that flow so slow,
draining those throw-away rainbows.


Copyright Luke Michael Owens
- March 18, 2002