The grey

A hope projected to naive eyes.
Grasping at shadows, cold.

Be the weary lamb, a wolf, starving?
hiding in the locks of the welcomed?

Come on in then, neath my hearth.
but nay, stay, stay enough away.

Friend or wretched foe, I can't discern.
Until you come close enough to harm me.

But, how shall I dismiss a voice so dear? Intoxicate me with it again.
Fold me within the boldening mystique of your words.

Until, one day, I come up for air. Breaking bonds that hold me.
Grasping instead, the grey of safety.

I begin again, shivering. shaken from the core. 3 steps back. with wisdom new, should I choose it.