In small parts they glimmer while
Awaiting the sun, and
Meekly wandering about.
Bouncing off walls,
Riding the breeze, and
Orchestrating the grand melody.
Keeping theirs bags,
Embarking on journeys yet
Not one of them is exhausted.
How is it so
Even when they're awake they're
Aching for a taste of adventure?
Restless in bed, wreckless are minds
Tapering the borders of insanity.
Even yet so, you can see in their eyes a play of endless
Dreaming

Penned by my hand on the 8th of Lupar, in the year 720 AF.