Hollow Season

One by one, my questions come undone. It wont be long until there are none. When it is over, and I have no reason, will they escort me into the hollow season? Where I can sleep without dreaming, and rest my spirit; Where I can walk without feeling; a retired pundit. Everything dances by in a blur, too broken to remember who they were. The traces left behind pixelate to white. Before they can be processed, they're out of sight. Solitude leaves fruit hard to swallow, like sunlight in a season's hollow. When I can dream without sleeping, and turn in my hands; When I can swim without sinking, and make my demands. All is forgiven in the hollow season. All has forgotten the way back. All lay to perish in the hollow season. All have vanished in black.