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.

At times I happen to wonder what it would be like to wake up dead
and if in fact anyone could really wake up at all from such a dread.
Although there have been cases related by people of coming back
after being diagnosed physically or medically of losing life's track.
In particular those who recall going through a kind of light tunnel
or seeing certain things that resemble looking into a bright funnel.

It seems quite reasonable now therefore to assume an afterlife may exist
and that some people have been given a rare opportunity to say or insist
about what they have experienced on the other side of their earthly life
regardless of who they might be and what strange conditions were rife,
when they had that encounter with their own personal angel of death
and were for a while seen lying motionless somewhere without breath.

Out of our dream life we may also have similar experiences to relate
though it's often difficult to recall them or find the right words to state
about what one has been through or even seen after any such time
let alone have the desire or ambition to write it all down in a rhyme.
For some people it may turn out to be a shame or some kind of regret
if they just brush it aside, don't reflect on it and then try hard to forget.
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