I imagine my very self,
In the place of a little frog;
I’ve, by fate or doom, got myself,
Into a blue heron’s food-cog…

Might be part of precious Nature’s,
Providing food for each creature;
Am I not food cycles’ firm feature,
And stable agape exchanger?

I have my rights to my life too,
This is, hence, I’ve held his neck tight;
This would weaken his control, true,
And so, I’ve chosen this tight fight…

My aim is not to see him killed.
My clutch will loosen his hold, well.
Losing my life for nothing gained,
Is not my life’s purpose as well…

Though I seem so terribly crushed,
My willpower, indeed, is bold;
My self-confidence is focused,
God-confidence is my stronghold.