An adamantine distress

Like a swimmer driven by a whirlwind of distress, without a morsel of hope, lampooned by regret, in a  storm of my own making; beseiged by clouds;  I hide. Adamantly anchored to twenty fathoms below.

I'm riven by a whirlwind of my observable distress; starving and alone, I shout: "I do not hide!" - I cried out; "here is my anchor all the live-long day" and yet, and yet, I fade away.  Disappeared. Dressed in a black haze: dappled sunlight swayed; There really is an abyss in the darkness before me; all around these terrible cliffs. Mountains of the mind have sides:sheer, steep, sublime.

I grumble like peasant over a scanty harvest, discouraged by my soul ... oh madman! I am  invisible, providence provides the hand that feeds me: in the tunnels, the cliff edge, whilst crossing deep water. The roaring shafts of sunlight disturb not my sleep. Again, dressed by a madman, in the abyss of darkness, I sleep.

Suddenly - everything is quiet! the darkness has disappeared; I see paradise ... there are three angels of heaven: saviour - providence - peacock angel.