William Barnhill

It speaks to me, as even now I hear;
The sounds of welling against the walls of colored spires;
Climbing from every crevice, stony colonies embrace the sun;
Multitudes of life weave in and out of every crag and overhang;
A blizzard of colors, swirl in synaptic rhythms, a living vortex of scale and fin.

The surface, a liquid mirror, rolls with scattered reflections of the scene below;
Boiling breakers thunder with the mighty hand of the deep beyond.
A million bubbles flow past canyon walls, rushing with the current to find the open sea.
White sand percolates in the serge folding ripples across a face that smiles at the pleasure;
A Thousand creatures dance in the pulsating flow;
Beyond the shallows the blue stretches down until it meets the darkness of the abyss;
Where fingers of light fade into silhouettes of stealthy hunters gliding through the liquid
underworld.

Beneath the glow of a burning star this life began;
Beneath the stars of the limitless heavens this life unfolded;
Testament to the beauty that can be in one place, in one time, in one world.
Measuring the passing of life;
Knowing it is but a gentle whisper fading across the lips of the cosmos;
Floating in a sea within a sea;
Floating within the canyon walls, above the sand;
The realm of our essence is truly here inside this watery cradle warmed by the touch;
from the eternal light beyond the heavens.
Within its diversity the origins of our strength;
Within its sanctum our birth place among the stars.
Within the walls of the blue canyons;
The miracle is conceived and revisited.