Beneath
the Surface

What was once a vessel is now a home.
The ocean wastes very little.

Above, the world carries on.
Down here, it simply doesn't matter.

Humans left this here.
Nature has been making it its own ever since.

The light comes from somewhere far above.
It always does.

He has lived in this particular anemone
his entire life. He sees no reason to leave.

In the shallows,
life moves in formation.

A brief exchange between two creatures,
neither of whom is in any hurry.

A single reef can hold more living things
than most forests ever will.

Every breath released becomes a small reminder —
somewhere above this, there is air.

And so, as they always must,
the diver returns to the world above —
changed, in ways that are difficult to explain.

And then — nothing.
Just open water, in every direction.

Up close, the reef is not one thing.
It is thousands of things, quietly coexisting.

Down here,
urgency is a surface concept.

Beneath the noise of the surface,
something extraordinary is getting on with things.

She has passed through here before.
She will pass through again.

Deeper, the reef reveals itself slowly —
as if deciding whether to trust you.

The seafloor, when empty, is not absence.
It is patience.

fin.

(pun intended)

back to the surface