Rise

In the middle of the sky, above the clouds

Above the blue

Sound rushes by, and cold seeps in.

Below, clouds float like clustered cotton, billowing and soft and inviting.

Will clouds catch me as I fall?

On the far horizon,

blue below and blue above fade

to hazy gray. No line marks

where obscurity begins and luminous ends.

Along the distant floor, pools of water

twist and turn like an ancient dragon in a

silent dance. Dark and murky, the waters call

To me. The waters feel old, old and wise and hidden.

 What lies beneath?

Beneath the clouds, beneath the sky, behind the blue?

What beats in the depths?

Is it the heart of the dragon? The heart of a god?

In this cold dark, what is it that calls out to me?

Does it give life, or take it?

Who am I, who hears the quiet call of far-off waters?

Who hears the ancient song uncoil from its primeval hiding place?

‘Deep calls to deep’ they say.

And what will rise within?

And what will rise?