I can almost imagine what the constant sight of grey prison walls over and above, what that may do on the health of a mind, the dull grey concrete blocks, block after block, blocking any view, stripes are not exotics but are bars, shadows are artificial there, these slum some days have felt like this, the constant threat of rain that never came, never washing, the difference between day and night dark shades balances on a thin needle, this creeping fear of feeling that this will last forever as the hours drone on, the sun retreating so far long gone, slowly- hope is tapped, drained and fading, no real reason for despair but this seems like the natural pairing with the grey, of these extended days, what day is it? …and as if by magic and levee broke, with one stroke, one bolt, one breath of god upon the skies – a light! how many days now did this dread stretch, and yet with one sweep of sweet sun the ledger is turned over, my inner soul is dancing around a pole in festival turns, with all the mystery and science and knowledge we have, everything wears down when the light is out-