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
