A grain of dust lies heavy in the corner of my eye,
Itself, the echo of a sigh of discontent,
Crystal-form of weariness and secrets lent, for safe-keeping,
To a shadow I met once in a dream,
He will not tell.
Lined hands and tired fingers stretch and rub; dislodged,
My solidity thus falls upon the ground,
And into lethargy
I melt away.