Trance in Black and White
Every day I fall into a trance.
I stand still,
staring at nothing,
as if the nothing stares back at me.
I wonder whether it is truly worth continuing to exist,
whether this invisible weight has meaning,
whether existence itself is a gift
or merely a habit we have learnt to accept.
I reflect in silence
on this selfish world,
where society dances
to the tune of those who pull the strings.
Day after day,
like actors in a play
no one admits is being performed.
Everything feels so wrong.
To be optimistic is to climb the sky
with bare hands.
The colours have drained away —
everything left in black and white,
as though life has lost its filter,
as though its flavour has evaporated
into the heavy air of disappointment.
And yet,
there is a detail almost invisible:
if you can still see the black and the white,
there is still contrast.
And where there is contrast,
there remains the possibility of colour.
Even if, for now,
it is hidden.