It sure is such a rarity
To have any kind of clarity
In this pall we’re covered with - no verity
Grey is not lit with any prosperity
Only shroud covered lands all in a form of familiarity
Knowing what is covered, but cannot see it’s true identity
Shadows cast through the day of skies so cloudy
A wet mist reminds - there is no remedy
Sunshine does not peek or wink through an atmosphere so gloomy
Dark grey grows over the land walked by one in singularity
Unfortunately, having clarity is such a rarity, a sad insincerity..