I am not ready yet
(far from it)
to allow my heart
to take over my life
it's still tainted and blemished
(the past its stories unfold)
and I am not even at the threshold
of self-realisation
nay, so far away
looking through
the distant deceptive mist
half-lost, tired and bewildered
while time is gnawing at my feet
I hesitate, I doubt, I tremble in the cold
like one trapped alone
in the depth of the desolate Arctic
without sleigh, food or water
what next?

the ice on which I stand is breaking
the cruel winds are lashing
my head is swimming
my strength is waning
and I say to myself:
I shall perish
and be buried in the snow

(here a miracle starts to unfold)
my heart
suddenly speaks to me:  
be a man
stand up and walk on

is that an illusion?
no--it's not

The ice suddenly turns into solid ground
and I walk into the sunshine of a summer day

My heart speaks again:
patience
patience
patience

and I begin to understand