One for all,

all for nothing.

 

Sweet winter cools the dry

of summer nights and splintered

dreams that shadow

 

endless preying hours.

Sleep

 

the poor man's weed,

a fortress of leisure

til wake forsakes you.

 

Outside the shattered leaves fall silent.

Wet glass batters petal echoes.

 

What is the world?

 

Why?

 

Can the answer beat and break

between the calm

of brittle tickles

 

and the memory of tongues.

Yours and mine, entwined

rung swooped and snuck

alive in the past.

 

What is this recall?

 

How is thought?

 

It summons darkness, let me sleep

and never endure the burden

of your waking sun.