Written Under The Sea

I am writing on this page; therefore, it is no longer blank. The milky white is starving to be filled. I know it wants to echo with my words, but I am floundering. My thoughts slowly start to trickle downstream into the runoff of my imagination. My thirsty fingers are waiting at the bank pausing thoughtfully before diving in, hoping to be carried away.

What if I drown in my words?

But for once it is what I want; to be completely immersed in the crystal clear aqua waters of my ideas. There is no air and yet I am happy being pulled down and yet uplifted by the warmth of the blue. There is no reason to be here, isolated, but it is always for a startlingly short time that I am submerged, and then suddenly I am left breathless by the tumultuous surf of my mind.

My face is flushed, eyes sparkling, realizing I’ve filled the page with seashells and starfish. I am now treading on the surface. There is no room for disappointment because the experience was accidental and I am willing every time to dive head first once again into my own words.





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