“My head is clear today,
the heavy morning stayed away
or lost itself in sleep.
Clear, open-sensed,
I keep
an eye where a light beam
bends round the senses
at the dreamy edges.

In the slow growth, in the egg of a dream,
in purple darkness,
pushed up by root warmth,
I saw a wing
and two knurled threads
tasting my dream,
the first that did not fade.

This stayed,
sharing his compound eye.”


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