«One of these mornings (...) you'll spread your wings and you'll take to the sky»
You win over noise. You accomplish silence.
This precious, tragic, fatidic stilness you only get underwater. Utterly silent.
I was floating, drifting but not away. I stayed right there, in the moment. I looked at the far distant sky. It was so insanely blue, it hurt my eyes. It was so far away, so immense I was afraid it would fall over me and suddenly I felt small. I felt the nothingness of me, compared to the wide sky. I couldn't bear to be in the water any longer. I had to get out. I tried realizing the colours in the clouds, but it was hopeless.
When I'm inside, there's merely the sound of my breathing. And water. Water surrounding me, clear water all over. I see the beginning and it's end.
I am floating, like time doesn't move, like the earth doesn't spin. And all I see is the beauty of elegant trees gently dancing to the wind's waltz against the light blue pane. I see the trees, but what are they telling me? They move, they want to break free...It's summertime and they are alive. They speak to me - they are speaking of things I ever dreamed about, things that are so known, yet so unexpected. I'm feeling such quietness, such purity. There's no space for hurt here, for illusion. Reality, as bright as I ever saw it, is upon me and I embrace it with my arms open.
And what did the water really give me? Serenity I believe. It gave me a break from the atrocities of the world when I needed it, it allowed me to forget, it allowed me to know more. I floated free, the trees spoke to me, the birds flew over me, telling tales long forgotten. It saved me, when I didn't even know I needed rescue. It was a lighthouse to guide me where I don't recall. I don't know the way, I don't know what it was, but I know how it felt. It was home, somehow.
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