Speak softly,
for this is life,
life and my consciousness of it.
Because the night advance,
I'm tired,
I can't sleep,
and if I go to the window
I see,
beneath the eyelids of the beast,
the stars' many dwellings...
I wore out the day hoping
I'd sleep at night.
Now it's night,
almost the next day.
I'm sleepy.
I can't sleep.
I feel,
in this weariness,
that I'm all of humanity.
It's a weariness that almost
turns my bones into flesh...
We all share the same lot...
Flies with caught wings,
we stagger
Through the world,
a spider web spanning the chasm.
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