Fathoms down from day
and light and warmth…
in the haunting intonations
of the singing of a whale;
the chittering of shrimp;
the clatter of a crab
against a rocky reach of ocean floor…

pressured into silence
in the deep…
There is no question of a voice,
my voice, arising up
from this dark space,
this deep and heavy drifting space…

I would reach out
to touch a lambent particle
that hovers near…
It flees, that spark,
before my thought,
before my hand can rise
against the dark.

Numb in every limb, in every notion,
feeling-free, I sink… I sink…
accepting all about me,
all this heavy ocean,
as a bed of down, a dream,
a universe of safety so profound
I’d never feel a thing,
would never know
if I should drown–
would never care,
nor miss the day above
nor light, nor warmth,
nor symphonies…
nor love…


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