When the world was desolate and dark, you were there; a hand on my hip, the other pressed firmly against the ever rapid beating of my heart. This hole had a depth of unimaginable grandiose; vast, complex, with no hand holds to steady myself and rise to the top. When I was drowning in the quicksand—my personal despair—you reached a hand to grasp my own, catching me from further succumbing to the depths of my own mind. In the light of day, when all appeared—if only to me—to be overtaken by a void so great, you took my palm into your own. You saved me, with no care or concern of the truth, that in saving me, you risked your own sanity, your own well-being; this reality that overwhelms us all. My trance is broken, the thrall that had over taken me, destroyed. Like a fisherman manning his net, my servitude to my own fears broke as easily as the net cast too close to the rocky shore. There is a gratitude deep down in my soul, my spirit, that I can never fully explain. The feeling overwhelms me, it is too powerful for words. When my light was fading, and I was alone, you tore me from my dying place and breathed life back into this spirit within me…and in this, you saved me from death itself.