not everyone lost at sea is lost, or found

The moments become more frequent, separated by shorter distances. Perhaps it is the weekly sessions with Dr. Jasmine. Or is it the cognitive behavioral therapy exercises? Then again, it could be the medication.

It is as if the waters calm more often. And I am able to tread water just long enough to lift my head above it all. I can see across the vast expanse. The sun rising and setting against the horizon. Even the clouds rolling in, sometimes merely drifting.

If I float, I will gaze to the sky above. When the altocumulus clouds wander in, it is as if a stone has skipped across them. Casting ripples and echoes through their white, delicate filaments.

Heaven and earth gaze upon one another. A mother and her infant.

Until a mood passes through me. Serenity eclipsed by a dark stormfront.

Troubled water. And choppy waves.

I may be lost. I could be found.

(I haven’t yet drifted beyond the edge of the survival model.)

 

[In response to the Daily Prompt: Eclipse]

 

 

 

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