Literature
Going Under
Sunlight sparkles high above me
out of reach, rippling;
shimmering and fleeting like
a ribbon, beckoning.
Minute spheres of glass ascend,
resembling balloons escaping
from a child's careless grasp,
fading beyond sight.
My throat is sealed, invisible hands
compressing; my body accepts,
shifting to stone and dragging
me below.
The moment to act is long gone and I
let go, readily accepting and
no longer keen on clutching
to threads of time.