by another name, the nameless wood:
a strenuous monotony of being awake
where i could not go on
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