My spirit buckles under the pressure
that holds it prisoner, leadens it down.
Loud light blinds my eyes without pause,
words die in the bud, fall silent and fade away.
A foreign tone that my mouth is denied.
Step by step, retreating, I seek refuge in myself.

I look deep into my depths, and sit by my side,
like a friend and minder, a true and strong ally,
like a hero with a shield who holds off the darkness.
At the same time he holds me hard, fixes my feet,
I remain deep in the embers.
I remain behind helpless,
the minder far and unaffected.

The more his power grows each day,
the stronger his shield grows day on day,
the more I am smothered in his silent, suffocating shadow.
He weighs down on me, grists me, melts me down.
But I long for transformation.
The spirit is willing, eye on the target.

I return to myself, unite my self with myself,
transform me to me, become one with myself,
and see that it isn’t too late.
Resuscitation starts …