Sleepwalker, he sings,
Looking for the dream
In the sky to catch.
He lets his welkin ring
Pull gently on the rein,
A world of never land to see,
Controlling the steed.

Small bobbin he rolls,
Lurking in the void,
Throwing its shadow beneath
In the luminous doubt.
Somnolent found is the city,
Proximity of which, is very material,
Had kept less ears aesthetic, to listen to
Creative sanguine flow.

Indignant kite that,
Pushing once again, the wind,
Along with fluctuating dream,
Betokening to go ahead,
Unseen behind, to make it see
The paper, where the horizon rolls
Entangled into his finger tips.

The kite is landed
Unharness the belt.