This is the world
that put you to bed.
It woke you later, called you back.
It’a the world in whose
immenseness you are particulate;
you’re krill in the mouth
of a great blue whale.
This is the world, aflame and aggrieved.
It forgives and forgets, and reconstituted.
This world, it’s your shelter,
and the force from which you seek shelter.
It is the dream and the dreamer,
the substance and ether,
the iron fist and the revolt.
This is the world in which you’ve slept,
and it prays you’ll awake with righteous volition.