Ancient Space

Marin Morgen

I close my eyes and see it still
The glowing water, neon leaves;
In shadows, ghosts of Arapaima
Weave among the tendrils.

I find a space beneath the roots,
The mystic water’s copper smell
Reminds me of a hope
And makes me comfortably fear.

A thousand fish flash ’round the walls,
Strange shells and corals at my feet;
The cavern is alive
And ever-living!

Above this space, an oracle-
A spirit cast both now and then-
Tells stories of a world
Unsafe but beautiful.

These climbing vines and cobalt glass,
This thrumming heart within this space,
Will weather one more age
Then vanish like the inky midnight tide.