| dawn it is, to be sure |
vanishes into a geographical landscape or exitless maze |
no edges either, no ends or boundaries |
merely fluid constellations formed by |
by the path of metamorphic dreams |
all the conforming structures have been erased |
I felt something was happening out (or in) there |
that dreamy lost-in-space feeling of |
desire for coherence and closure |
remote still, in these very early days |
eloquence is being refined |