The hexagonal key turns one more time,
Its steel grip familiar in my palm—
While eyelids droop, I chase the perfect rhyme
Between the chaos and the coming calm.
It used to be the Lego's plastic snap,
The satisfying stack of brick on brick,
Or code that danced across my laptop's lap
Until the logic found its final click.
But now these Swedish stairs demand their due,
Each Allen wrench rotation builds the dream—
A staircase to some glorious breakthrough
Where sleep hangs like a golden-threaded gleam.
The furniture assembles piece by piece,
While consciousness surrenders into peace.