Across the expanse of the big blue,
The heavier the substance, the deeper the pull.
Along the surface, you see it at every corner and every turn.
Descending into the lively abyss, scarcer it becomes.
Approaching bedrock, there exists not a trace.
Why is this?
Recycled. Hollowed. Weightless-ness.
Maybe that is why it carries a hint of . . . emptiness. Does it not?
Without substance, a fun aquatic balloon at best.
Staying afloat by attaching to it seems logical.
Safely gazing through the sunlit shallows . . .
Some might play with the corals and starfish.
Others may collect colorful rocks and shells.
All is well.
Meanwhile, the treasures of the sea hide beneath . . .
Available to those
Who know when not, and when to release . . .
Available to those
Who learn how to dive . . .
Available to those
Who long for the unknown . . .
But what the diver eventually comes to realize
Is that at such depths everything becomes crystal clear.
For the serenity of life itself illuminates a unique path.
And from that very moment,
One attains the freedom . . .
Of the entire ocean.