Inhale, exhale. 

Exhaling bubbles;

The colours of dreams drift in midair. 

Take a deep breath; 

the wind peels back a corner of the ceiling, and there, 

in the corner, the shape of water appears.

Left, right, 

Tossing and turning. 

On a night that won’t open into another world, 

My thoughts and the night sit apart, refusing to emulsify, 

sharp sounds rising in the silence.

I long to stain the night blue,

I crave the waves surging into my body.

Inhale, exhale. 

Blue leaps from my breath, flickering,

catching the slender tails of white petals.

Tail clinging to tail, corralling the restless static of the mind,

scattered across the ceiling,

playing hide and seek with my eyes,

caught only at the edge of sight,

gathering into the heart of a chamomile,

Floating,

and floating again,

slipping into the night.

White streaks across my forehead, 

slipping out through the gap in the window. 

I sweep the air clean, returning the night to my body:

my hollowed out body,

this hollowed out blue.

Water rises over my ears,

the rhythm of my heart slowly dissolves;

Out there,

I see the ocean,

I see the rivers,

I see the blue.

by Osma