dampening fast, hold the billowing
skies…ebb and flow from in and without
scraping across the sandy flow even still,
i grow, from beneath the loving wake.
knowing not from whence from where
gasping bubbles entrance and flutter past
the still knowing apparition of sight
and sound breathing in this dungeon lake.
it will not know to stop or grow
from above all is but a swirling
world of green and blue splashes sprinkled
white by the salty spray of chance and hope.