I pierced the darkness like a swimmer
(rather, a fish out of water)
My arms jutted out in front of me so that I didn't
somehow float into something solid
(even though I was easily ten feet from the closest wall)
I drifted and danced like a swimmer cutting water
(like a fighter with a tangible enemy)
But it was the darkness.
I cupped my hands and flailed my legs,
(but didn't find myself anywhere of any significance)
I crawled through the darkness like a fish out of water
(rather, a piece of driftwood)
Selfishly soaking it all in, never to realize,
that the very weight of that which I absorbed
could drown me. It just seemed so natural,
(It seemed like the right thing to do)
Letting each wave carry me as it will, there is
a sense of comfort. and curiousity of where I end.
(in so many words, where, how, when, and why)
I lay in bed like a piece of driftwood
(rather, a seashell with no home)
No movement, simply hollow.
Waiting to be collected,
like a prize that only the smallest of hands hold.
(such value so simply discovered, and even easier to lose)
I sat in bliss with waves above and sand shifting
(never thinking I would never be found)
Even so, I don't recall giving either much thought at all
It seemed easier to just assume rather than analyze
(the possibilities and the percentages and the probabilities)
I am buried like a seashell with no home.
(Rather, like the sand itself)
I no longer have these thoughts. I simply sway.
and sway. and sway. I only wait.
and wait. and wait.
Swimming through sound,
there is nothing to noise.
(rather, nothing sounds like her)