I’m sleeping with my eyelids peeled
And talking with my mouth tight-shut.
Like one to whom the truth’s revealed,
I feel at home in hall or hut.

The measure of my skill is nil.
I’m flying with feet on the ground.
And, even in the evening still,
I hear each simple, soundless sound.

It isn’t that I’ve turned the page,
Or these things happen “just because”;
Instead, I’ve always been of age
But didn’t realise I was.

And so I see life’s like a light
That shines throughout both day and night.

Photo by Caique Nascimento on Unsplash

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