by another name, the nameless wood:

      a strenuous monotony of being awake

   where i could not go on

but did

to the middle of a vision

      to walk and go beyond

going to the limit

  to hear only the echo of footsteps

in my viewless, steady tread.

   i had no more lust for knowledge

even its branches

   suspended even from sleep talk

 to know more about my sleepwalk –

in this soft earth only secrets. 

  as i realised the senses between night and morning

are nameless.

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