My soul is the bell of the temple, struck with love by the bell-ringer. A ring, ripped from the metal, and the echo repeating itself endlessly. Be a bell-ringer, don't hit me with your hands, rather touch me with trembling oblivion. Give me love and a fiery heart, kindle embers in my eyes. I'll be there, it'll take your breath away, I will dissolve---tender and ethereal, invisible, disembodied. I will wear the bell-ringer's soul fully.
