I am now almost without energy.
Sometimes I twitch! Even walk a little.
But then I'm like an ageing pet, spending
much of its life resting or quite asleep.
I say I'm well, lying in my own dirt,
keeping the truth hidden by camouflage.
I am without address or voice; will less;
no more than light upon a rock, a glint
without the power of a spark, flameless
yet self-consuming; that which might have been -
as leaves may roll themselves, fall, crumble
to dust, not even knowing combustion
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