I'm Gonna Let It Shine

These words have to relate to something. Maybe they do. They try very hard.

Preconception is a mold. Pour words into that mold, and let them set. We're all trapped in a mold of preconception.

I don't think I can do it. Time passes and things still go where they go. Cupped hands cover, then rub tired eyes.

This little light of mine... Long periods of time with just that little light. I jealously guard it. It's probably just a reflection, anyway.