Grey is the colour of Regret

It may be the clouds
or the quality of the light
or the quality of life
that I've chosen

It may the roads unwalked
the detours taken
the scenery unchanged
the thoughts smothered and killed

It may be all things leading to this point
or just a few
What weights must be released
to stop sinking in this oily slime
bubbles mark where I fell in
what will mark where I finally settle

It may be choices and karma
it may be sanskar and incomplete intelligence
it may be will-lessness or willful deception
it may be nothing but just the lens one uses

But this is dread and regret like a cement block
Acting both at the centre of the rib-cage and the feet
Dragging at 9.8 m/s squared, minus the upthrust from viscosity
Pulling everything down slowly

It's odd I feel, that the oil is pushing me up
While drowning me
As if urging me to live, while killing me
It's the mixedness of all things that makes it hard to identify
Just why it must all collapse
When I thought it was ready to fly .