Awake in its glow, soft and silvery,

demure and meaningless, my state,

in the limbs of trees I curled,

grasping to dusk, bathing in the night,

 Simple and small, I felt, an acorn on the

soft grass, with no notice in the world

where feet shuffle past, asleep I fell,

dancing on the edge of dreams, conscience,

No friendly voice held too, no calls or beckons

of behest, nestled by and by as I took my last

breath, forfeit the game, hiding lines, and supple

stance, I fell into solipsism, disappearing at last…