Waking The Dead
In the stillness, the brilliant emerald moss seemed to breathe up the crater wall. The diamond water dripping from above appeared like fire or stars falling from an inky sky. In the silence, each diamond fell in slow motion then ker-plopped on the azure surface. Lying back with my hands behind my head I float weightless, my feet dangling, cradled, as if in mother earth’s belly. It’s a strange kind of safety; an exercise in surrender.