Sink.

The red rubber welcomes my sole,

the very soul by which gravity is

defied.

My own existance is pulled to the earth’s core

And yet by this bondage

is set free.

Sink.

The silence resounds,

a parallel universe by which I’m willingly

submerged.

I open up to a land of words that linger

and drift away.

Sink.

The warmth is reassuring,

the stained-steel fireside by which I readily

wait.

Watching new life take its form

in beautiful innocence.

Float. Sink. Drift. Fly.

It matters not which form, which way.

As long as reason alone is down to earth

you will live to live another day.