The verge of awakening

The day may break

Under the sun that wakes

But I have this peculiar feeling

Being on the verge of awakening

A vague shroud asphyxiating the self

Leaving it to some fathomless places

Withering to wild yet primary whims

Under the grey mornings fading into evenings

Elusive atmosphere like wintery fields

And through the nocturnal precipice

Reminiscences come among the windy beauty

Flowering into the vast atmos, numbly

My rainy eyes turning skyward

Dreams enrapturing the dusty mind

Under the dying of the light.

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