Stillness,
A momentary calm
Like the heart breaths before
The exhalation of water
From the lungs of a drowning man.
A baptism of desire,
Of cold, cold fire.
The absence of touch
In a universe without feeling.
Just the biology of the vacuum
Without emotion only needing,
Then the tsunami.
Colours exploding, overwhelming;
Like a million hands
Reaching out of the darkness
Touching skin, caressing my mind.
© 2019 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.
Originally Published 23 March 2018
Made of sticks and stones 
Reblogged this on Made of sticks and stones and commented:
For the 12 November I’m sharing a poem about moments
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Really like this one, Frank. It reminds me of times I’ve almost drowned.
As an adult, I’m finally taking swimming lessons as I never took them as a child. Although I’m not afraid of water, I’ve never had much stamina in it .My instructor says I’m the only person he’s ever taught who can’t float. Yay.
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Thank you Eden, I had a near drowning experience in Spain years ago and have never really got my confidence back in the water. So really admire you for taking the plunge ~ so to speak.
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