Darkness grows gray
then bright
then dark
again turning gray

We are two parts of gray’s polarities:
the simple and complex,
the sound, soundless,
black, white

I sense everything is beginning:
the before-world, after-world
the open entrance, closed entrance

My thoughts have become something else’s thoughts
because I never know what I’m thinking or worse, why
was I thinking it?

I want to be ordinary, mundane, a basic pebble
an empty soul with no opinion
I hear talking inside my head
but it’s not my voice:

Every cloud quivers to be rain
every rain falls to be an ocean
every ocean becomes a cloud

I answer without thinking:
Yes. No. But never maybe

Should I speak or should I listen?