In Well-Lit Rooms

You have asked me
“What is the value
In discussing
These topics
On the fringe?
What can we expect to learn
Or accomplish
If there is nothing to be proven?”

I live in a world
Comprised primarily by these topics
You have labeled as “fringe”.

I look up at the night sky
Filled so theatrically
With bursts of bright light
And no longer wonder
“What is the source
Of the light?”
We have solved that
For the most part.
Instead,
I wonder
“What is the source
Of the darkness?
What is in
The space between?”

Why do we only see beauty
In that which shines?
Is there not value
In the empty spaces
In the lines between lanes
In the dull and quiet moments of the day?

I am losing interest
In the well-lit rooms.
I want to dig beneath them
To tear open their walls
To wander the corridors
Full of flickering fluorescent
And smelling of bleach and oil.

I will find what I am searching for
Because I believe
That it is there.

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