Last year I bought a ray of the sun,
trapped like a djinn in a small brass lamp
which looked the size of a postage stamp.
It could touch with a glance, and run.
In disrespect I broke the lamp.
Rebuked by the dark where its light had fled
I studied its parts, but the light was dead,
and I crushed it in a clamp.
That monochrome ray of coherent red
had the power to charm, to teach, to inspire;
but it isn't enough just to watch and enquire.
I'll build my own instead.
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Crimson crystal voice
distilled, launched through starlit space.
Shout becomes whisper.
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Emerald hard lines,
tetrahedral traces climb,
poised over dark earth.
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