Silently, I submerge my head
Under unknown waters
Closing my eyes,
Holding my breath,
I almost falter
Embrace, I must, what lies ahead

Fill my lungs with the liquid's salinity
I suffocate in the path to sanctity
The agony is merely a symptom of
My resurrection sung by a mourning dove

The ensuing metamorphosis becomes
An excruciating asphyxiation that overcomes
Preceding concepts one yearns to eschew
And yet chains of doubt still anchor true:

"The cold abyss invades every pore,
Therefore cleansing my spirit's very core
Or would that wipe my true essence
For the filth has taken root in my existence?"