Pulled from the water of the womb, we begin to make our way back to the feeling of being submerged. How different it is from drowning! The willingness to be perfectly still and washed through. All we have is our bodies and our minds, bones anchored to the shore while we delve into the oceans of the psyche. Learning to swim float surf dive. I'm scared to ask who are drowning. I'm afraid of those who are gasping for air and pulling down everything around them, whirlpools turning life jackets into shipwreck. It frustrates me at times when the people teaching you to hold your breath have lost theirs a while ago.

I keep having dreams where I can fly. Like birds who don't have the hands to write, I don't have the wings to fly. How much time do we spend in envy of others? turning evolution into a decay of difference, as we define ourselves by what we are not. So we spend our years building metal wings to come closer to the heavens, too desperate to care how they melt in the face of the sun. The Icarus-complex that poisons us even while we're begged to pull back from the sky. But we see our greatest strengths as proof of vulnerability, broken metal in a weak chain. And so we fall down back to the earth, this time without wings or dreams.