IN THE CURRENT OF THE NIGHT

There was a type of

Currency that never did see

The light of day for when

Subjected to the sun’s rays

It was bleached white and so

It fell into the transparency of

The world around it its colour

Gone from the scene.



Only in the dark did it

Reposition itself briefly into a

Situation of existence.



And yet in the darkness what

Was it like to be a colour?

It was like a thought locked within

A mind that cannot speak. For the

Words fall into the dust that

Scatters at the heels of passing strangers.