The Anchor

By Oscar O’Neill-Pugh

 

Submerged in blue

amongst the deep

the diurnal man, eschewed

from the light, floats

in aphotic sleep.

 

Dreaming dreams

in the waters – over, 

the albatross fly – 

dreaming in depths

where the sun can barely pry. 

 

Holding hadalpelagic,

embracing, soaking up

the soul’s ebb and flow

and remaining, unmoved,

by the undertow.   

 

Once full and reacquainted

with the abyss below,

up from the trench

up,

to the light he will go.

 

 

THE ANCHOR


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