How light is time when by the fire the coal is emptied from the hold, when in the embers of those hours came moments, glowing in the cold !
Impervious to wind and rain, that lash at midnight on the pane when life is never what it seems and Pretzel nuzzles through her dreams, in closer contact with the game around these residues of flame ;
through elongations of the kind that see the clock stopped on the wall, - much closer to the twilight mind the realisation of it all ;
as charcoal into ash transforms fuliginous into the air - am I the dreamer of a dream embodied, and reclining there, awakened by a ticking clock, the distance, crowing as a cock :
The bread of life comes with the dawn, it's ancient mill still treads the way the world goes round.
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