Steady chilly rain of
irritations, builds into pools of
rage, a sea of tears.
Paddling, that old canoe splinters through.
Dreary, filthy floodwater, always needs bailing.
I am sore with life,
bruised, blood-stained, a sorry sight.
I cry out to Gaea’s strength, brutal acceptance.
My body aches to mend in healing
bend and release,
undulation, deep breaths of puissant sea air.
Expanding horizon beckons. Waves of welcome
extend hand to hand,
beyond gravity. Fragrant allure of serene
ease. Feel the moonlight,
gently embrace, then,
twirl me grandly into cosmic glee.
Exhilaration, peace beyond compassion,
beyond evidence of empty space between.
Ebb and flow. Drought and tsunami.
Guiding beacon, or oncoming train.
The underworld is flooded; rotting
stench escalates to outrage.
We on the surface busily scramble
to survive. In this torrent of madness
float keys to magical caverns beneath ocean swells.
It is a fine era for purveyors of diving gear
and we with will to learn
new methods of breathing.