Give me the sombre light of a place whose contours are hard to define.
A place, a space, a landscape that lets my imagination run backways through time to create a sense of where I am now.
A world filled with too much light leaves no room for the flawed or broken.
Leaves no room for my imagination to re-cast outlines of whatever lies on the periphery.
Beyond the middle.
Now, is this a prose poem? Has that feel.