There was a faint glimmering in the deep dark of the ocean.
A light so tender and so fragile, glimmering in the dark.
Amongst the swirling mass of liquid darkness a light shone.
It spun ever so gradually but spun with a purpose, a conviction.
Its size was immeasurable–both small and large; and its matter:
both tangible and so incorporeal. A pure thing made of light.
A fallen star, trapped in the barren ocean, trapped in unlight.
It spoke in a nearly imperceptible visual melody, nearly drowned by
the cacophony of chaos encoffining it. A melody of undying life.
It had been there for aeons, trapped, but held our against its own doom.
Up from the sky and down to the deep it fell an age ago.
But it still shines and it still sings, to this day.
A life in the dark.
A light in the void.
M.M.
