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.



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.

Something Japanese.




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.



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.



07 Seven.jpg

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.




04 Four.jpg

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.

Darkness set.

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.




10 Guiternal.jpg

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 back to the third 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.



The Grey Album, photographs and words by Christopher Kay are
©Door Hinge Studios Pty Ltd 2020