Down There

Location

A crystal clear glass of water, pure and refined

Not a single piece of grit occupying the vessel

Neither virus nor poison concealed within

The experience is wonderfully simple

The rules of engagement so perfectly set

Yet that gulp is not whole, so horridly untrue

That clear, supposedly pure liquid merely a piece

Pulled from a greater body, reduced to an easily consumable form

Such simple substance siphoned from a complex of higher significance

That mysterious ocean, waves and shadows and life

What mysteries are hidden beneath the surface, down there?

Beings in great number flit about within and between every drop

Not grime, as others may see, but a fluid sanctuary

In mentality, as well, do we see a mirror image

Clutter in muddy waters becomes clutter of mind

Denizens of the deep as undesirable elements of the subconscious

No surface dweller has eyes on that, though

I encounter others, and my mouth is faucet, filter, cup, chlorine

Refine, pour, supply, “Enjoy, good customer.”

They drink, they smile they leave.

They're no divers, just testing and tasting

No knowledge as to what's down there

But, those that browse my depths, friends, family,

Embracing the ocean that pours from my open mouth

Fish and filth, gold and grime

They dive in and grab the odd rocks of odd thought at the bottom.

Reeds and weeds of tension and trepidation tangled with their legs

Biting eels and innocent minnows alike beside them

Obscure shapes above and beside, paying no mind, or maybe too much

Frightening and strange things, down there.

Cluttered it may be, but with plenty to see

The occasional fanged fish frightens,

Swim silently and slightly for safety

But brighter bits of bioluminescence beckon

Will they play and laugh among the lighter lovelies?

Treasures and tragedies, explicit bits and mysteries

Swim back to the surface with doubloons to smile at and spend

Or maybe with bite marks from the shark hiding in the chest

I wish no harm upon them, the explorers,

Those who come back with the odd scrape or scratch

Doubts and concern hunts in packs, rush quickly, bite hard

Loose, latching teeth anchored firmly in an arm, 

Each fragment to be removed slowly and painfully

And those are at least the understood hunters

More is down there, escaping the eye in scale

Grand things.

Massive things.

Obscured things.

Eyes not upon me, but the accompanying bodies swimming overhead

Above me in scale, above me in status, above me in all ways

Pass by, good behemoths, for I'll be staying out of your way for now.

One day, perhaps I will be a proud rider on your back.

Or maybe a stain on the underside of your foot.

There is so much coming and going down there.

Things gigantic and minuscule, simple and complex,

How could I ever manage a complete catalog?

The scale greater than the extent of my sight

Do I know what beings occupy the deepest reaches?

Are those behemoths even the largest?

It is fortunate that wonder is the other side of this coin,

Mystery walking alongside terror

Caution makes sure that individuals remain whole

Yet wonder is why one would go swimming in the first place.

This poem is about: 
Me

Comments

MadeOfBricks

I don't know why the third line's font size is so much larger than the rest. I've retyped and done everything to fix it, but it's always that line. Does anyone know how to fix it?

MadeOfBricks

I don't know why the third line's font size is so much larger than the rest. I've retyped and done everything to fix it, but it's always that line. Does anyone know how to fix it?

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