In the nether regions of vagueness
I dwelt in a dream one night:
Seemingly undisturbed I hovered —
Peace-enfolded, held by a guard,
A trustworthy hand with loving aim,
Feeling nothing, just awaiting...
Then, almost suddenly and not suddenly at all
I felt, there was something bound to happen soon;
Was it presentiment or a warning sent? —
A presence, dimly sensed but unannounced,
A kind of tension, but not frightening.
I waited and yet was not excited.
As it began: slowly, gently and heralding,
I knew I was prepared and knew I had to be.
The hand held me still, supporting and helping.
At first I felt slightly disoriented,
Then a shiver gripped my soul, darksensing,
And a pressure built within, like horror
And yet not like horror, slowly intensifying
Up to a level where feelings of guilt began —
Suddenly misery sprang at me from nowhere
And yet from within, from regions within my soul
Which, I felt, I had not known before —
But I had suspicions somewhere in my heart:
It felt like an old wound, scarred, but not healed;
It was like a spider, hiding in a web;
Like a bitter pill; a nightmare pronouncing guilt:
Some unfinished duty maybe, a lapse —
Anyhow something within me, suspended
But not forgotten, kept, waiting for judgement.
I was ashamed, rapidly seized by remorse —
A remorse which took me like a powerful maelstrom,
Like a storm that raged painfully within my soul,
Trying to tar me apart from the inside —
It shook me, slashed me, bent me, gnawed at my heart...
And yet the hand shielded me from the worst.
I knew I would have to break but for the hand —
And if I had to bear it for all eternity
It would hold me still, but not to protect!
No, to make me bear it all, every little bit —
All my failings, wicked deeds, thoughtless crimes,
The essence that condemned me for all times.
