When I went in, I disappeared, and found a sweet respite within the void
Yet how strangely restless in my bliss, and somehow tired of never being tired
The place in me like raging wildfire flames, or violent untamed winds, the rash and unrestrained–
Now nothing but a wisp of stagnant air.
When I came out, I thought I'd re-appear, and rise again in all my fierce existence,
Ablaze with dazzling light, rekindled like a flame by only breath,
But when you blow on cold, dark ash, does it alight? Does it awake? It just gets in your eyes
Then settles like a shroud of suffocating gray.