Lovely Dawn

With ambition's boots I trample myself
Or is it just that I sample myself,
for the feet of my songs don't sing deceit,
but truthful miniscules of my coneit?

I don't know where or why they come from me,
internal millipedes shed shoes from feet
and the dropped shoes do their feats of dancing
all outside of will I know of making

I transcribe myself, I describe myself,
the inner unknown who crinkles to light,
falling well short of any wrinkled foil,
this falling short flavor of discretion

I wake as inner dawn comes upon me
along with lovely dawn outside I see