Waking up suddenly, we vow to never fall under
the spell of evil again.
But the ocean's waves are so high , and
we sink below, not knowing how many years will pass
till our heads are above the water again.
The memory of fresh air, must direct us upwards,
prevent us from filling our lungs with dirty water.
That memory will keep one particle of our lungs sheltered,
until the time it is ready to manifest again.

Dormant gods have moments of hope.
Dormant Buddhas have no need for water or air.
Their hope is like stone.