An adamantine distress
Like a swimmer driven by a whirlpool 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 a despair, twenty fathoms wide
I'm riven by the whirlwind of my observable distress;
Starving and alone, my anchor is the live-long day and yet, and yet, I fade away.
Dressed in a black haze: dappled sunlight sways; 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 a peasant over a scanty meal Discouraged, 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, I dress like a madman, this refrain is deep
in the abyss of darkness, I sleep, in a paradise of sorts...the angels of heaven surround me:
My saviour is my peacock angel delight and my unacknowledged thought.