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From Below This work is considered exceptional by our editorial staff.

For a long time, or maybe
just a moment,
everything is black.
I squint until static tessellates
my eyes, but the hum
does not compete with the nothingness.
A foreign sound
no louder than a whisper,
rolling like voiceless thunder.
I follow without direction until
the black is gray, and the gray is

The blue held no sadness.
It wasn't cold. It was calm and
shimmering and bluer than any other.
I reached out a hand,
grabbing at the almost tangible hue.

A million bubbles
and my head bobs above
the placid surface of a lake
like a dizzy cork.
How blue the sky looked from there.

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