There is an endless ocean of blue hues
claiming my breath.
Underneath my feet, the space between my thighs,
the waves dance, high on Fate.
It does not matter that I do not wish to go,
the waves are there to take me regardless -
the laughter slowly dies,
the fish think that I too own fins
because I keep going deeper and deeper,
their bodies barely distinguishable
as I'm unable to stop the current,
as I become the current,
as I am the cold flow and warm swirls.

The black rocks are silent giants,
witnesses of this repetitive transfiguration -
the entrance,
the commencement of the dance,
the reconfiguration of senses;
the lost voice.