I am unworthy. My life, deeds, thoughts, they hold me.
I am burning too quick, like a flame through the wick.
The trick is that when I'm feeling slick, I'm actually at my weakest. My whole life, facetious.
I am learned. But then why do I get burned?
I fear my knowledge will save me. For this I know, surely, will betray me.
Unaware of the cold heat, I hold my hand to the flames, expecting a quiet sleep.
But what I find weighs me. The message, relaying. I can't sleep, praying. The words, saying: Peace.
And then I find my body lies not where I left it, I am not in me, my past identity, I am clean.
My worth is not found in fragile, ephemeral things, but in what I believe.
I am freed.