In this soft cushion my heart lament
Dreary of light, so bright it blinds
My soul tatters, I drown in torment
Tinkering, to which soul does mine binds?
I am free yet imprisoned by fate
Even if it could be a mistake
A sacrifice for the reason of state
My soul against a hundred at stake
Who am I to grumble, I am small
With a wick of light I fight in fear
With resilience I perform my toll
Then he came, a bulk of tinder
In the cushion with darkness in sight
I seek; will he be the blinding light?