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…