Battling each other- black and white,
which stone placed where,
who- is never a part of the equation,
that last pebble and end to the game.
As is how the world is,
but watched through a pair of rainbow glass,
the black of the dying trees- green and glowing,
cracks of the beating heart- red and pulsating,
a rhythm hidden in the ripples,
the grey spreading gradually- painted in blue.
Has it always been this way,
since the eyes opened wide-
yellow smiles and orange skies,
happiness in bright, dim of the plight in light.
Accustomed to this way of living,
yet the soul knows different,
the world in these shallow eyes,
are shades of grey never before seen.
Who shall place the final pebble,
who shall rise and stay afloat,
when shall these shades crumble and fall,
when shall this book turn its page once and for all.