Fury in the Stillness of Green

These colourless green ideas softly stir,
Beneath the shade where silent thoughts arise.
They sleep, yet in their rest they madly blur,
A storm of dreams behind unseeing eyes.

Furiously still, their forms begin to creep,
Like restless winds that howl through hollow space.
In dream’s domain, they climb and twist, then leap—
A dance unknown to logic’s measured pace.

No sense can shape their wild, unyielding flight,
No meaning bends to reason’s steady hand.
And yet, within this chaos cloaked in night,
A language hums, too strange to understand.