Surprise!
I wrote a poem. Aren't you surprised?
The Deep
Weightless, motionless,
Bright waves racing overhead.
Timeless, endless,
The surface I ever must tread.
I think I am dreaming.
I am weary of the waves,
Their froth and their fury.
I let myself relax.
Every bone and nerve, relax.
The light deepens
Through green,
And blue,
And darker blue.
I have attained the depths!
My flesh is cool, immobile.
Oh, less than that:
It's hardly even there.
I see the bumpy, ragged,
Stumpy, jagged creatures
Of tail and jaw, tooth and maw.
In spite of my disgust, I let them be.
I speak to the sea,
To the secret currents,
The hidden powers,
And they hear my voice.
Let every stagnant hole
And stinking grave,
And every shadowed hulk,
Forsake its filthy dead.
No longer shall they fall
And lie there, piling up
As banquets for the tailed mouths
That haunt these waters, multiplying.
A new, relentless wind arises.
It gathers up these horrors all
And carries them, up, up, away,
Until they reach the light of day.
While I, a tiny bubble now
Float where the currents go.
Yet all the while, I rise,
Approach the top and grow.
I think I have been dreaming.
I dreamed I made a change.
But what was I:
The swimmer or the sea?
Or just the merest bubble?
-BC
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