What options are left
in times like these?
When I have sunken down
so deep
the sunlight cannot reach
and I can’t see any
rising bubbles.
I go right, it’s still black
I go left, might as well turn back,
and, perhaps, I hadn’t turned
at all.
So, do I sink
or do I float?
When I don’t even know
which one I’m doing?
And if I still,
and hope to rise
I’ll very soon lose
my air supply.
And, perchance,
I just breathe in
all the pressure, cold,
and depthless ocean,
then I would sink
and be left where?
Sinking cannot give me
breath.
God,
where are the lights?
The glowing fishes they say
dwell down here?
The ones who flash
and glow for those
who also dwell
below?
But I know they wouldn’t
glow for me.
I’m not even
of the sea,
but of some marvelous sky
on high
where air is the least
of its jewels.
So I guess
I’ll just close my eyes
and dream of home
and drift along
this midnight zone
till my last breath
is squished from me.
Then, finally, I’ll get to be
with thee.
Author T.S. Lowe 