Black with Rain, Misery & Chalko,

I am made up of Rock, yet destroyed by Roses,

The World is the Fire, I am the Ocean.

As I erase flames, the smoke feeds life.

And Life feeds me the ability to Rain.

I am wanted when needed.

Never needed when Wanted.

The one engulfed with flames is White. Cloud White.

White with Fire, love and Life.

It is when Black meets White that you get Grey.

White consists of Flames, yet dampens the Air that I breath.

I now feel Needed when Wanted, Although I'll never be White.

As the world to white is like the lower lip to the upper lip.

White is made up of Rose, Yet destroyed by Rock.

As white heats up, Matches increase inside my soul.

To be White or Black is not of our choice.

We are the colour that we bring at Birth.

No Soul can consist of Both Black and White.

They are insoluble to each other.

The Grey is what gives White the smoke to Light up on,

And Black heat to Light up with.

The cycle of Grey brings an Equal way of Living to both Black and White.

As long as the Heat and Rain circulates, We will exist as one colour.