inside me is a well. seemingly bottomless. dark. damp. cold. qabd. falling and as i fall i can see my breath. counting moments in breaths instead of seconds. i fall and fall and mostly barely graze the walls. sometimes i scrape against them and bleed. sometimes i fall slow enough to see the drawings that the ones who fell before left behind. i know there is water at the bottom. sparkly. thirst quenching. void filling. i want to cling to the walls- maybe climb back up. the thought of falling forever and never finding water is frightening. but i know there is water there. i want to drink it. drown in it. the free fall is freeing but the feeling of this fall isn’t quite flight. not gravity-less. a great pull into subordination- submission- transmission. transient. i feel boxed in but the walls are paper thin and i know i can punch through them, if i wanted to- but this fall, falls directly into experience. into secrets. into know. hitting the water isn’t the goal. no diving- just a driving force- the goal is gathering enough speed to get there. planting enough seeds to sit there. sowing enough fields to die there. swimming enough salty seas to drink sweet waters. this doesn’t say what i want it to say- but if you know, you know. feel.

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