Little flickers in your heart,
Through the cytoplasm, past the stars,
Linger on through morning fog
And fawns are dancing.
Ballet graces all which breathes.
The magic spells floating in mist
And the everlasting silence,
All we've ever known,
Grows through the leaves,
Lives through the trees,
And, always, as mornings seem to fall,
Fawns are dancing.
I, oddly, think and stop this flow,
And, ever, as gracing swans—
In this fog, rivers of my life,
In the dew, vague and vast,
I sing and I am renewed.
And in my rebirth, the last nanoseconds of time,
My fawning sways the branches toward me,
And for once, in these millions of years,
No one seems to ignore me
For I am the stars inside the cell
And as the world ends I rest.