I sit on the sand of the ocean floor:
clean, pristine, and worn by time.
The white floor stretches miles around
without a change in sight
and I sit, cross-legged, on the floor
with the green blue waters up
over my head
close enough to see the sun’s rays hit the sand
but far enough away
that I can reach my hand up and still not touch the air.
There’s no oxygen
down here in the blue,
and yet I am not bothered by this.
It is not that I can breathe underwater,
but that I don’t need to breathe
and I can just sit there for hours.
And I would look up at the waves
and see the sunlight changing their color,
see that above me they are crashing
and leaving marbled pictures on the sea floor,
yet they still cannot touch me
and neither I to them.
Do you know what I’d give to feel like this?