THE GREY ALBUM
PHOTOGRAPHY & STORIES IN PROSE
by Christopher Kay
The first step was taken towards a new path.
She had seen this type of path
many times in the light of day,
but in this instance,
only fragile illumination existed.
Her foot quivered as she took her second step
towards the truth she'd always asked for.
The darkness in the distance
made it impossible to know what lay ahead.
Each archway looked the same as the previous,
and the further she forged ahead,
the more infinite the path appeared.
But then something changed.
She looked behind her and
realised how far she had come.
The path ahead, albeit unknown,
was much shorter than what was behind her.
Confidently, she moved through the door
into the unknown,
and now understood
exactly what she needed to do.
He is an artist.
In body. In mind. In spirit.
But necessity had led him down
quite a peculiar path indeed.
He had to pretend he was something he was not,
ensuring his bread and butter was earned
so that he could live a comfortable, solitary existence
in his little corner of the Earth.
As he hid amongst the collars of white,
his artistry began to break through the seams.
A fire would still idly burn
in the darkest parts of his eyes, and bring
an extraordinary brightness to his entire demeanour
whenever he spoke of ‘art’.
Yet under this new identity,
he was constantly sought after for his gifts,
and had felt used by those
whom would never really know the real him.
They would fly him everywhere
in order to tap into the brilliance
that he was trying to hide from them all,
and on that fateful day of inevitability;
the sun was setting, the plane touched down
and the taxi ushered him to his tiny hotel room
complete with single-serve mini bar.
He stood on his balcony and with a clear sky
and an even clearer mind,
and he finally remembered
that all of this was only a detour.
A night of Wagner.
The sounds of the orchestra
elegantly filled the gaps
of conversations about the beloved Cosima
and inspiration for Siegfried Idyll.
The Winter’s night felt deathly cold,
but the attraction between them
had grown to beautifully terrifying proportions.
Both had come from places of pain
and emotional trauma
and hadn’t forgotten how to love,
but had simply forgotten to love.
The last few weeks had left them tightly wound,
things unspoken, things untouched.
He set the mood.
Warm pools of light filled the room
and reflections of candlelight
danced majestically on the walls around them.
It was then that she revealed her grand gesture.
Something to relax.
Something for warmth.
Freedom in mind and thought
are the most imperative structure
in the evolution of the human spirit.
When every definition of the word
is put into question
and begins to transform into
a privilege rather than a right;
be on the side of the good fight.
Seek those who also have the courage
to stand up for what is right.
Find the specs of light
between the gaps in the cell
And follow the vibrational frequency
from the inside out.
At times, we are too human.
One must overcome the feeling
that decisions made are incorrect
or that they are a magnet for damage.
We all make the wrong choices
and sabotage our own existence.
We are better than this,
yet we don't allow ourselves to be.
We are stronger than this,
yet are more inclined to hide behind a weakened fear
because strength is too hard to search for.
What do we really need?
The physical? The intellectual? The spiritual?
Or just a connection to make someone feel
like they are wanted and worthwhile,
if only for a minute.
It is a side that is never permanently satisfied
and we always look for the next thing
to fill the hollow void of discomfort.
And therein, lies growth
against all odds.
It is light, life, the sun;
an emblem of purity and perfection,
of invincible spiritual power.
But she wanted more.
Commitment, faithfulness and promise.
But his hesitance provided her
with the deafening silence
that became an answer within itself.
Alone, the silence came back to haunt him.
As he moved to the front porch,
he lay to rest on the decking.
His eyes drifted upward
to a completely new perspective;
and he finally realised
he did not build her a house,
she had made him a home.
What began as distraction,
ended as inspiration.
With every stroke of the brush
the overwhelming fractures of his heart
were painted over and forgotten.
Upon stepping back to revel
in this pouring out of his essence,
he knew he had chosen the right muse.
Loyalty. Honour. Strength.
Not only the qualities of
his oldest companion,
But also the qualities of his
own Zen-like soul within.
She reflected on the entire historical drama
that lay in her rear view.
The patterns became so obvious,
but none of this epiphany
could be executed in hindsight.
Love was there for the taking,
but she just wasn’t ready for it,
that was, until it was gone.
As she embraced this necessary crisis
by the equally calm river-walk,
a visitor emerged.
It carried itself proudly reminding her
that she too was now filled
with the same ancient wisdom.
If something was meant to be,
it would return in time.
There's no such thing as an ordinary person.
Only ordinary choices. Only ordinary fears.
People chase the wrong thing.
They chase the security.
The expensive shiny objects
little realising they are chasing illusions.
Think of a time, when you were at peace,
in a place where only you
truly understood the beauty of the moment.
No matter whom you shared it with
ever understood the place where
you forgot everything for a second,
but it felt like an eternity.
But to remember it, seems like a fever dream;
never the same as the actual event.
It occurs when your physical vessel and
spirit mind are one and the world knows it.
The vibration is true.
The energy is forcefully lifting
and transporting you towards something bigger.
In that moment, you are the creator.
A beautiful frequency danced across the night air.
As all in the room became centered,
Mother became their true north
leading with light, guiding with love.
Just like her mother before her,
her graceful calm was a gift to the collective.
The lessons were simple
for those ready to receive them.
As silent undertones of oneness swept through the room,
the calming foliage caught alight
and a delicate smoke surrounded them.
It resulted in a delicate nudge into
the direction they should have always been facing;
As the haze of clarity dissipated
and they returned back to the third realm,
a state of love and calm remained.
Something they knew they would have to
continue to carry in their hearts
if they were to survive the often dark depths
of the human experience.
A hijacked history hidden in plain sight.
Awakening led to questioning
and with this, theories rather than answers.
But no matter how egocentric his emotions,
the deep questions of the past
kept him in a state of ascension.
A simple stroll through any city young or old,
would cause feelings of déjà vu.
Tartarian structures and sublime architecture
disarmed of their true purpose
and now, veiling a folkloric corruption.
But with the death of one civilisation.
comes the birth of another.
Never to be unseen, once truly questioned.
Emerging through the trees and
understanding the edifice that lay before him,
he wouldn’t be fooled again.
History was just that – his story,
And he could rewrite any way he felt.
As the collective observed
the singular entities in the crowd,
the grid shifted into a new energy field.
Love vibrated through the echoes of the chants,
even when wrapped within elements of disdain.
The people stood united.
Races, religions and creeds melded together
in a sea of oneness and song.
Their feet stomped rhythmically
sending messages directly to Mother Earth.
A father was not just dad that day.
He was a freedom fighter,
Not fighting for freedom that had been taken,
but fighting to always keep the freedom
he would forever carry in his heart; his son.
A generational gap away
lay his father who had seen it all and more,
and in a relaxed state with a wry grin,
could visualise the outcome and be proud
that his strength of character
and lion-hearted integrity
would forever carry on into a positive future.
With the stripping away of the programmed self
came a deep state of mourning.
As its ebony feathered wings
drew back to its sides
and with its footing firm and still,
a once negative portent
became a positive path forward.
Through its magnificent eyes,
a sharp intelligence and ethereal wisdom
poured out in pure energetic waves,
providing the perfect example
of how to proceed.
Akin to an apocalypse,
this wasn’t just the death of an old way,
it was the birth of something new.
He had finally found what he called his flow state.
Reacquainting himself with nature,
but tethering himself to his human experience
with the lit cigarette between his lips,
he became a conduit for brilliance from above,
and let it release through his fingers
and into six perfect steel strings.
Each note followed on melodically,
bridging perfectly and formulating
a soul-fulfilling prophetic masterpiece.
As he crossed over to the fifth realm,
a realisation still flowed through him
that he had already applied the flow
in his own unconscious roller-coaster of a life
to everyone whose path he crossed,
and to the lives he had also created
with the other half of his soul.
she awoke before the sun rose
but instead of joining the slave ships
on their inevitable journey
through the mouth of the beast,
she took to a different vantage point
for a true change of perspective.
Through subtle polluted clouds
and the thick blanket of motorised noise,
a feeling of lucidity flowed through her soul;
the programming now instantly recognisable.
The organised chaos of the urban jungle
would always continue on
without her participation or presence.
But she knew she had to participate
in a forward motion of action
in order to reach her true destination
and rewrite what she once thought was her destiny.
Mother Nature waited patiently on the horizon for her,
as she had always done.