When I let myself sink to the bottom I heard all that needed to be heard.
I saw all things through a delicate fish’s eye,
And felt every touch through the cool water that surrounded me.

I felt no need to be exalted on a timeless slate of marble,
Nor to be caught by fishermen and their thousand dollar lures.
And not once in that moment did my gills seek envy from the pure.

While all hatred the world had fashioned shambled through the air,
I swam smiling deeper- yes, I swam smiling deeper,
To secure a place where love prevails.

Yet pressure built and pounded angrily upon my ears,
Transformed my gills to a pair of starving lungs,
And wrung my sanity like a dish-cloth, discarded and dry.

Now can you hear me flop helplessly on the surface?
Or was that you the whole time?
And I was the fisherman casting my line.