Douthat

The mountains hold this blue gemstone gently,
How else could it be so still?

In its waters I’m overcome entirely,
and let myself slip below the water briefly.
Or perhaps pulled more instinctually?
As if some deep latent force
Gently coiled in the sublime blue
Held firmly behind this old dam
Is moving me,
Pushing me toward the center,
Pulling me across the faintly rippled surface.

Each moment here is a barely controlled euphoria
To float through a medium so familiar,
Yet so foreign.
To shed, temporarily, the rules of the land.

Are our souls not amphibious?