Eyes closed, the fiery warmth would’ve been quite discomforting if it had not been for my present wetness. I pondered diving in again but could not quite bring myself to rise from such a hazy state as my current self was kept. I pictured throwing myself into the open air for mere seconds feeling the sensation of flight before crashing under into the submerging darkness. Eyes shut tight hands bearing down to touch the bottom and then pushing off and blasting towards the surface. Hoisting up onto the lone pier in this wilderness of life unlike the one I knew I flattened out and breathed in the scent of an untouched air. My stomach pressed against the hard wooden pier. I shifted with caution, wary, for it was not smooth polished wood as the like found in my cozy dining room. No these planks lie together in no particular order fastened by rusty ancient nails that one should be very careful to avoid whilst running and diving forth into the fresh deep of the water.

The horizon I had in my memory from open eyes just moments ago remained flawless. With musty wild pines cradling what had been the dazzling focal point of my gaze. The sun, with which all else did not fade but only transformed and became more radiant with each touch of its groping rays, grinned down upon my trance admiringly. As if we shared a secret, though maybe even just a thought. Perhaps with did. How shall I put this without seeming unceasingly superfluous? It was as if in this place not far from my reality I had entered a different time, a world I could not touch unless and only if in such a momentously lazy posture as was at present.

The sounds revealed a deeper silence than I could’ve imagined possible. Ears perked and at the ready for another’s human’s announcement that would quickly cut off my private reverie. A child’s shrieking laughter or perchance an old man’s ripened and tobacco immersed chuckle would echo beyond his space of peace across the pond and into my own. These sounds however did not come. Rather my senses pricked at the sound of tiny splashes from the minnows that fled upward which was then followed by a rippling whisper that soon abates. From the sky came a whole cluster of life. I listened at the sharp pulsing beats of the agile swans that passed above me. There were two; I did not have to look to know.

As I felt the warmth leaving me I knew it was time to give my full attention the final moments of my divine complacency. Slowly my eyelids lifted to behold a greater beauty than that my memory tried to hold. The sun had transformed from the piercing lemony shine into a glowing ember red and pink. I looked not at the sun but at the disappearing crystals created by it upon the reflective pool I floated on. They shimmered and made me wonder if I had not found the place in which all varieties of persons had chosen to discard their diamond rings and flaring jewels.

Soon I would bid my sun farewell and reemerge to seek the shore before the mosquitoes and night creatures came forth from their veiling cracks and hiding places. The enamored creatures of the day would soon flee to the farthest corners of the pensive and whirling sights of twilight soon to be a foggy ornate pretension of night. They would make room in cycle where paths never cross, for their naturalistic counterparts. The fast paced crawlers of the darkness and the fluttering spiders of the sky. The haunting screeching devilish sounds that for some are projecting from the closest edges of a smoldering underworld or the exhale of a suppressed afternoon. These sounds and grappling touches (for in the thickest of nights one usually cannot rely on sight for guidance) are different in essence to differing peoples of differing days.

For me this simplistic, soul refreshing ignorance of time and manner is the oxygen I hold betwixt my lips. When most air I breathe cannot satisfy a gasping system of spiriting enjoyment which in turn must be placated with meager breaths till moments as these can be availed. Because the small soundless moments filled with sounds make the blinding images that morph into visible memories and the non-existent perfection that reaps every which way in such a place encompassing the senses to drift upon a careless raft seem to be the one extravagance we as humans can afford yet they same vitality one must cling to for an imminent yet evading sanity.