In filth and rags I lay at your feet,
crippled by fears, blinded by dreads,
while spikes of ice pierced my chest.
and all the joys I'd ever felt
ran out upon the ground.
Warm they'd been and now were
cold,
blasted by despair.

I felt your hand upon my arm;
and though I'm weak and wretched still,
in filth and rags I lie,
I sense a sunrise on my life,
and love enfolding me.