Black and White

I’m not cynical,

I just know the way the world works.

.

I know better than to believe

in fairytales

like a helping hand,

or heart of gold.

.

I’m not a pessimist, I’m a realist.

.

After all, who ever heard,

of a happily ever after?

Why hope for the best,

when I’m already expecting the worst?

.

Why bother, they wonder,

to hope?

Maybe even the non-cynicists

and non-pessimists,

allow themselves to yearn,

for that child they used to be,

Naive, they’ll say, when dawn hits the sky,

and their hardened eyes.

But when it’s dark,

and this darkness they’ve clutched to begins to clutch to them,

they wish, they too, were naive.

Because the naive, the silly,

the blind, the gullible…

they have a stupid smile on their faces,

always.

Sometimes, the non-cynicists and the non-pessimists,

would like to have that stupid smile too.

Until, of course, the sun rises, and they carry on speaking,

of the darkness.

.

The irony is sweet,

because the realists can’t see the reality,

of all these optimists who know the darkness well,

but let go.

And all these who know how the world works,

don’t realize that how the world really works,

is that you see the wrong, acknowledge it,

then turn away and bask in the right,

you seek it out, you shine a light upon it,

and you treasure it,

you take the naivety that you’ve shed,

and wear it like glasses.

For you don’t have the eyesight of a child,

but you can choose to see the world in color again.