Conversion

Held silent in panic's blind spin
As fear whispers a name in pain;
Confusion splinters the mirror through which you see the world,
And the shards spin away in the vortex.
A soul longs to take flight,
But its wings are clipped
By the beat of a hammering heart,
as visions of nightmares,
Long-forgotten, dance in the mind.
Lost in will-shattering terror,
Spinning round and round at a whim;
Weaknesses unknown - undreamed - dragged screaming to the surface.
The very fabric of nature is ripped by unseen hands,
And reassembled in different shape
As the blinding chaos slows;
And a proud spirit breaks under the shame of unearned guilt...
In unreasoning horror, born again.
Easier to die in the flames.
Better for the pounding heart to cease.
If its percussive beat had stopped, no guilt would remain
To twist the soul into a dim reflection of what might have been.

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