The curtains flung apart without me,
The shadows cast into the land of slumber,
And light dissuades the darkness, finally.
All this dust breached by the wind in the morning,
All this skin and crust laid to waste while we slept,
Now it is time to make some featherweight darts,
And to split the sand with hearty steps,
So that we can lift ourselves from the desert,
And slide outside ourselves, past, outside,
Into another room where the dearth of our dreams,
Does not lie like wasted crumbs upon the floor.