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One April night in 2024,  

a rope descended from the ceiling of my mind.  

A voice whispered close to my ear:  

"Do not imagine holding the rope;  

know that you hold it truly."  

 

My mind surrendered to the truth of its grip,  

and I began to climb.  

Each pull was vivid, the strain tangible—  

so much so that my body seemed to rise.  

But when I looked around,  

I saw my body remained still.  

Only my soul had stirred.  

 

Panic seeped in.  

A delicate fear trembled through me,  

and I let go of the rope.  

My soul drifted downward,  

sinking back into the shell of my form.  

 

The moment my head touched the pillow,  

a snowflake-like tremor spread through me,  

a constellation of sparks erupting  

and scattering through my body—  

stars breaking loose, fleeing into shadow.  

 

This piece reveals the struggle of the spirit:  

to seize the divine,  

only to descend  

into the swirling energy of chaos.