I shake off my fatigue with the bed sheets.

not knowing if it will be a happy

one with sleep overwhelming sleep, I hold

off unhappiness along with that fear

of light illuminating misery,

as my eyes resist looking– while it seems

I have not slept on soft feathers at all

but in the black arms of a beast.  The air

shines as a river beams to a person

in stride, two lips open:  and joy arrives

as to a happy home where a loving

family greets the new year; –then what blooms

before the sun: el pensamiento!

Suddenly my eyes begin to darken

and the sky,  toward my head goes my hand

as if in a military salute:

the dead are returned to the motherlight.

I stick to my work like a believer

anointed on the forehead by a priest

with a soft gaze and wearing white vestments.

I pratice on a divine altar, Nature

my host is the soul of humanity.