It was at one night...My Saviour appear

upon to me. I can't say, can't say from where

He appears out of --- of margin or ocean blue,

I can't say why nor how,

O, it weren't a vision, it weren't

waves --- no wings ---

but th' eave-silk honey moth dropped,

and th' vapour perconcieved Death

alone, from th' burnt stone

over a vehement Levin,

or sanguine arrows,

I came before Him with no soul

and still He loved me.

I can't assume what I believe,

my heart gave

a-way

the pallid glare,

and again I've felt th' burning given

wretchedness or faint-hands,

and He guide me my path,

hovering

th' abyss

from where I sung th' first psalm,

Psalm, with no shepherd here, just

myself,

a faded soul 

of nothing no one knows,

and thus I kept gaze on

th' Elysian

captivated

yet free,

seraphs,

oscillating vineyards,

umbrageous feathers,

Rippled

along hairs, bullets and roses,

th' starry mark and constellations,

But me, an inconsequential void,

dead inside th' depths of

holes,

odium, rage with

sheer misery,

felt th' piece of His halo touched;

and until th' faded soul emerges,

Life without a soul will never emerge again.