Though so hush, communication through a green light is so sweet

so soothing. Its switch from green to red so swift and powerful

We cry for its return. Telling the ones who wait on its

permission that it is safe to go on. We admire you.

We stare into your mystical demension of oz until you wink back....

You are now free she says unil we meet again, the wind is yours to penetrate.

The concrete awaits your wheels of tricks. 

You can go here, or there. Like how poetry feels,

our green light lies right behind the pineal gland.

Guiding us, leaving us free of expression saying go, the paper awaits. 

The pen twitches, and our mind wanders.

Wanders until the engine crys for more fuel. 

We travel the world, we see things and make them

our stories forever. The paper captures its most fascinating moments

so that they are never lost in time.

The green light so sweet allowing us to liberate. The green light so soothing

because we know that our creativity sores because of it.

Green light, so swift that when its gone we gravely wait until you illuminate us once more.