Tis the morning sun; The light of the East
that doth envelope thy slumbering form!
Though your countenance speaks of a deep drowsy,
Alas and alack Fair Keaks,
thou shiest the light in vain!
Open thine amber eye.
Let the query that has transformed your conceit
from repose to wakefulness spill forth.
We await your thoughts transformed into words.
What sayth thou sleepy Keaks.
"Could someone turn off the sun?"