Cliffs of dying coral affronted me as I slipped to the depth,
my heart wept for the inspiring sight it once was.
What it has become is a paragon to man's destruction.
I look for something beautiful.
A painter sat cross-legged on the white sandy bed,
his canvas weighted down, the weights accompanied by two mischievous ***** as he cast his oil paint to the page using his hands.
A masterpiece, to paint the ocean's belly from the inside.
'That's true beauty,' I mouth, watching the silver bubbles escape from me with my dwindling oxygen.