In a little tent up north,
I sleep bare, wrapped in half-darkness,
alone with my thoughts.
Change hangs like a gentle weight,
a struggle sometimes,
like youth unsure of its strength.
When my instincts murmur,
pride swells, peaks high above.
I’ve seen much, yet fear lingers—
alone in this little tent.
One question dance in the light:
Who am I, lying here, naked and unguarded?
And who is that fading in the shadows,
echoes of change in a quiet world?
My feelings remain.
Oh, how I long to be free up north!
To find comfort in my habits,
deep within this little tent.
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