From The Book Of Monastic Life

I'm trickling away, I'm trickling away

Like sand running though fingers

I have so many desires at once

And each one is thirsty in a different way

I can feel myself swelling and hurting

In a hundred races

But most of all in the middle of my heart

I want to die. Leave me alone!

I think I shall manage

to get so scared

my pulses will burst.