In the quiet of the night,
poetry on the refridgerator can be heard,
along with the chirping of crickets,
which was not there before.
 
How long have I been asleep?
How long have I been dull?
Self-interest and possession quietly tuck the light behind 
the horizon,
 
 
but if you don't notice, you can't pull it back.
It might be too early. 
It might be too late.
 
It seems the best course of action is to join the crickets in their singing
               and become the thrumming world