BY ANGE SANG
Dreaming last night…
I am a participant of the heart, no longer a bystander
A deep-sea diver, in cascade — raindrops, like liquid parachutes, finding their call
Suspended in the moment of remembering — I find myself inside that point, where we all dissolve
Dropped into and becoming the low, low alpha waves of rhythmic ocean, I can wear my heart on my soul here, instead of merely a sleeve.
Cloaked with the dive of my own submersion, emotions dragged out, underneath.
I am sinking, surrendering, enveloped momentarily, until passive motion turns into a spin.
I somersault ’til iris’ cast back upwards to the stain-glassed surface. Here, like a cork — bobbing in half immersion, wrung out,
I am suddenly oxygenated…by you.
I sense you, know you…as the inky depth itself unchartered,
just as equally; the endless air aloft.
Not there to play judge to your boundaries — I have simply fallen in.
Then as tides are turning I am swept up, unabashed — held in a torrent of internal adoration,
All I can feel is you.
Turned inside out and back to front, your waves, are my own confrontations. Underworld lashings and sandstorms, you do your best to wash away all my bearings.
I am drowning…
grief-stricken, suspended in the shackles of space-time, this is the memory of you.
Ripples and tides of my dear one’s face, your life — and life itself — revealing the best of examples,
of imprint divine
And in the deep-sea knowing, that we are diving — diving! — into heart and spirit, the irony,
the irony that joy and grief, are but one and the same, for a broken heart is surely an open one.
Your existence — like any that walk, that live, that breathe, that dive — an echo of the only, itself.
Not separate from the storm, this pain, this grief — for it too, a kink, knotted tangling of the ever-love, contorted, yet still entrained from the one, the imprint, the Source.
The same quest to be seen and held, reborn through the darkness into the warmth of lover’s light.
And in the astral before I wake — I know dear — I’m learning to breathe again,
in tepid water, seas are calming and my naked feet, so close to reach
but then, and only then — the many secrets of your sea floor
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