Trudging into lapping waves
   On a dim and dusky eve.

Chest deep
   One pops up, pressing one's chest 
      Onto the water,
   And swims toward a distant 
      Silhouetted rock outcrop.

But it doesn't stay silhouetted.

Soon, one is heading into
      A grand, black abyss,
   There is no shape in this world,
   Only the feel of limbs -- pulling & kicking.

Sounds grow ever more feeble --
      And ever more rare --
   Until the smell of seawater becomes
      A bright and vivid sensory experience --
         Layered & textured.

Rolling onto one's back, one can see
   Patches of sparkling stars
      In the cloud gaps. 

One lays upon the waves --
   Feeling as though one conforms to them 
       As one floats like a piece of driftwood --
   And sees the twinkle of distant stars,
      In a world too vast to understand.