I look long and forget that I look

 I look long and forget that I look. I look closely and do not see. Tomorrow, another look. Things with you. We get confused in dreams. In their silos. Overflowing with dry grains. They look for roots among their empty spaces. In custom. They are stirred between grain and grain. While their vegetal frictions resonate on the immense walls. They wake up early when entering through the high windows the crowing of the roosters from the nearby orchards.

Sense, then ex-isto as a hypo/thesis.