Flashers

Here lights are protective coloration,
Hiding what's important from our sight.
I know it's very different late at night,
But now, before the day's prolonged cessation,
Our minds perform a uniform collation,
Equating all the lights as one, which quite
Erases their supposéd point. That might
Be troublesome, long-term, that derogation
Of individuality in signs,
For some of them are vital, some are not,
Some wish to be, and some are best forgot.
But for the moment each of their designs
Seems ununique, and all is one to me
Whatever their intelligence may be.