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, graceful hypnotic 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.
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