Wednesday, December 07, 2011

Molasses Sharks of the Deep

Right now the weight of an ocean rests upon me. The swim is difficult, such a dense mass to cut through. The thick, molasses liquid drains my arm of fight. I feel its crush with every breath. A great, faceless weight of darkness. I must remind myself to keep swimming, even when all my effort feels motionless. Somewhere up ahead there are a thousand new me's hanging from the fishhooks of possibility. Dangling in the tide waiting for the appropriate consciousness to come and spark their being. If I do not keep trudging on...if I cease swimming these dark, thick currents, then those fishhooks will become food for those wild creatures of the deep. They will be devoured. They will never peel their flesh from the hooks to see the light of day. Bait and nothing more. I must make it to my fishery before I drown. I cannot submerge any deeper. The rift will swallow me whole.

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