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Crumbling, sweating fingers, sparkle out, misty. Holding my breath blocked to meditation when suddenly the lights go off.
It’s the fuse.

Egor was seamless in the crowd.
Egor had his lapidary doubt,
smiling to himself.
Egor got inquired - “What’s the time?”

It made its way through the cobwebs of the well- “forty… um… six…Ni… Three forty-six”.
He was shut up so for many hours, he forgot that the sound that his thoughts make do not reach others. Inertia has to give way for the larynx to come in between.

Egor, Egor, Egor,
You lapsed into stupor,

again.
Remember the pain,
and you will be protected.
The bird circling overhead
incited the last line.