Indiana Jones
sat on the shelf;
a world inside a box, a box could destroy worlds.
And suddenly I saw my future
A flicker and flash beneath inituition's garden pond.
Now I'm lost
weathered away by sand, my skin and self.
People scream on television screens
Save me from a life on a shelf.
Blue and green and red make up who we are
tiny dots of color
vibrations are our voices.
They hum in time to the lightshow,
They scream in a thunderstorm,
Indiana Jones.
Now I find myself and
my dream.
Before I was unsure,
I've never been more certain.
These are the things you find in boxes,
the power those boxes have:
Indiana Jones.
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