The Green Light


Once in a far off novel I read

Fitzy told me of a fixation

To an idea of intangibility

To a sense of rightdom

To a feeling of contentment

In my room the green light shines

Literally, its a green light in my asylum

It stares at me

I see it and not the other way around

Luckily, I can fight motion

I unhappily fight light

For while ideas are often static

My excise of freedom is not

I am luck

So lucidity flows and freedom…

it grows in blue in yellow

Perhaps there is a meeting point with teal

Down the line


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