Sea of Consciousness

Floating. Fluctuating. Drifting on top of the subtle current of water on an endless sea. So close to being rescued the longer I hold on and stay above, yet so close to drowning if I were to give in, let go and sink. No one’s there to help, just me, my mind, and consciousness. the water trickling to my face with every little sway of the waves, yet there’s no panic. It’s warm, adjusted to my body temperature, i’m not cold and shivering as i should be. Just numb. I don’t know what’s below me, are there sharks circling waiting for me to descend into the deep? would they not take me now? There’s content in the confining situation, it’s comfortable and familiar. The sky above is forever dark, tiny lights twinkling spread out as far as I can see. The dark isn’t scary, it’s surrounding me like a warm embrace of a loved one. There’s no moon light to guide my way, only my own instincts and strength to drift me where I am needed to be. I breathe in 1..2..3.. and breathe out 1..2..3.. I’m calm, at ease and relaxed. I can only look straight ahead at the sky, in awe of the simple beauty of darkness and little light. It reminds me of a box, closed up and punctured with holes so I can breathe. My arms and legs sprawled out, limp, and bobbing up and down with the motion of the water. My mind is still and vacant. For the first time no thoughts, no voices invading my head, like a cavity left open. Just numb.. It’s not annoying though, it’s constant, freezing my thoughts to allow me to envelope in the moment. The feeling of being drifted away gives people the idea that I’m at peace. Maybe the sky is my peace, a sanctuary, and the water tilting me is my doubt, my end. Only I control this sea of my truest conscience.