At the bottom I strain where I used to sing. I've tried to reach for a stone to grab onto, something to pull me out, but down here the walls are slippery and without pity.
I've had to close myself off so it wouldn't hurt anymore. Hidden within there are silent angels who lead the way back to compassion. With them I begin to sing again. My breath rises in smokey vapors from this broken bottom and I chime bells as gracious gifts to my angels.
Now in this dawning, as I ascend the tower, the multitudes become apparent and rapturous in desire. The walls absorbent and benevolent, guide me.
At the top there are soft hands that envelop my soul, insighting all knowledge in the universe. And I am with my angels, creating a secret life.
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