Top of the head just looks
At the stellar sky where I can read
Nothing of the kind of a pattern
Of the bloody situation
I'm going through tonight, and
Which is filled up with another situation
And another one inside that one,
Letting the spiral of troubles spring down
Into the underworld, at the bed of which
The dragon of my lost soul can be found, dying.

My soul is the kind of invisible light gas, I guess,
How come it is dying?
When the gas-shape substance rises up,
In full accord with its gas-like nature,
It must be sprayed with the waters of reason
That flow down in accord with their nature
Of subsistence. Otherwise, there's no engagement
Between the tangible and intangible elements.
But it doesn't matter when there's no reason for that.

To be able to possess a good reason and use it
As your spring of wisdom, you first should forget
Your own damned self to move forward freely.
The day after day, year in year out, and throughout
Decades and centuries you're like a rock climber
Without a guideline tied to your waist. It's very clear
That you're at risk for a certain reason
To make your reason bigger than your risk
And even higher than the peak you're on the way
Ultimately to reach. Now tell me, what is
The physical weight of your depressing situation?
How can you convert it in the light gas of your true nature?