Clouds under the sea

©2022 Michael Raven

I wish I had words. I suspect I do not have words because there are no words that work with what I want to convey. I also strongly suspect that we might have to create a whole new language and, with it, a whole new culture and way of life for me to convey the what of my mind’s meanderings.

Seems like an overwhelming ask, just so you can hear what I am trying to say.

It helps not at all that my vision is obscured by dark spider silk laced over my eyes, something that allows sight, but only a sight that manifests darkly. I can apprehend the edges of things, if only moment to moment, things that seem invisible to everyone else. Here: take this shallow, dark blue bowl of water and gaze into it… What do you see?

I know: water. And under that: that deep sea of blue porcelain, chipped in places as to mask the dream.

Maybe it is only my dream.

Mama went to the doctor and the doctor said…

And you see, that is my personal gnosis (reach out and touch faith) which cannot be confirmed because the words do not exist and my vision is blurred by shadows and dark filigree falling like spun lace from ancient looms. Gunmetal grey.

…no more monkeys jumping on the bed.

Look to the clouds. Tell me what you see.

Ahh, there… we touch on it together.

Now…

Now look to the clouds under the sea.