Deep Electric Blue

You remember: there was a surface once.

A shimmering place. And terrifying because of what lay beyond. The water like a membrane, a barrier. You thought – this is what keeps me safe.

But it is not only light which pricks the surface. Things penetrate, they swoop. The water shattering into tiny pieces, like frosted glass, and so you go deeper, down into the darkness and away from the light. And it’s true you fear that indigo blackness. You can’t deny it. But safety is not always a bright, dazzling thing. It can also be black.

And how many years is it now?

Time measured in fathoms, in tiny pinpricks of ever fading light; white, yellow, green, blue, black. Years marked by the slow descent and the diffusion.

Until you feel it. A weightless translucence. A freeing up of something. A lightness and buoyancy which flickers through you, and sends little flashes of something into the void.

Electric blue. A spark. A light. It is you.

You float. Safe. Deep. Alone.