You are wrapped in a cocoon of grains and
woven silicone, safe from cumbered air

Outside there is a fall of sleet, addressed
to stars and spheres conjoining atop earth

You've seen them dance this way once before. Though,
could you ever remember, 'low Saint's lair?

A worm of sorts, how stung by drowse's ardor,
assured through depth's premise, dawn shan't be revived

The umbrella's of the forest blockade
but rare crevasses where sun-shards and dew seep

Transient glow-flies, these burn your tiny wings;
velvet limbs and swarthy remains weep

A worm of sorts, how stung by drowze's ardor,
assured through depth's premise, dawn shant be revived.