He must reach up to what he can’t below.
A solemn song the twilight will now sing.
Into dark depths, winding paths to follow.
What good there can the nighttime to him bring?
An age of waiting on the ocean floor,
Patience for questions that delay answers.
Inhabited by his greatest fears; more
Than a passing phobia or cancer.
One wonders if there’s breath under water,
He has been drifting down there for so long.
His arms, can he bring himself to bother?
Perhaps. He’ll soon find that his arms are strong.
In swimming towards the surface he will find,
Darkness and light, both, are repaid in kind.