I can’t breathe;
But the bubbles bursting in my
Field of vision,
Purples and greens and blues
Exploding into specks of light,
Gives me the force
To lift myself out of there.

I can breathe air again,
Gulps of it,
Like its sweet, sweet wine
On my tongue.
The blue surrounds me still,
And I realize that
For thirty seconds,
I was not a part of this world –
This world of air.

(I don’t understand people
Who say they’re scared of the water.)

I carry a pocket of air down again,
Opening my eyes
To a calmer world,
Quieter, almost, if you ignore
The muted sounds from above.
Everything here moves so much slower.

(Why?
Why are you afraid of the thing
We crawled out of in the beginning?)

Every time I surface,
Mouth open like the dying fish
I sometimes feel like I am,
Air swallowed up
Into my lungs
In a way I’m sure is bad for me,
I feel like I’m being reintroduced into this world of air.

(How strange,
That we feel more comfortable –
Calmer –
In a world where we can’t breathe.)

Maybe this is why
Most believers
Choose water over anything else.

Opening your eyes again,
After being plunged into it
With the mania of hundreds of centuries of belief,
You feel like the world
Looks a lot newer.

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