The Compass

The Compass

Deep into the black, I dive
Suspended head down in the dark...
the color enveloping me as a phobia
which wraps its cold, bony hands around my throat.

No sound escapes through its incarceration,
All movement is brutally arrested;
A momentary lapse of all crooked reason
causes me to hesitate near the point of surrender...

Before the final moment, struggling for balance...
Racing my mind upward, fighting for air...
Pursuing the dimly-lit nuance that beckons me

I decidedly break the calm of the surface, gasping,
to find you anticipating, awaiting my return yet again
and I wonder at the magic magnetism
that points my way home...

...only now, through you, can I fully appreciate my own arrival.


Bride of Rambo