John Anderson Poet Lyric

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Nacre to Nacre Within

I plunge beneath the tide of the restless sea.
through corridors of green where shadows lunge at me;
the water’s pulse warps what I can see,
each beat a thrust towards my fate's mystery.
Silt now erupts, choking faded memories,
Shells lock shut, like vaults closed by ancient decrees;
I probe for grit wrapped tightly in silver coat's gleams,
With a silky smooth feel of much cherished hopes and dreams.

Light drifts down; it's not sunlight, it's rainbow,
driving spears deep into scared beds below;
ripping shards into the strangling cold,
making the search more strident, fierce, and bold.

I dive for oysters, for what someone called gold.
sewn deep within places that refuse to unfold.

I hear the air regulator hiss out my name.
Its voice in a shell I can never reclaim.

I can still taste the salt that scalds the air.
A glint half-formed as if it’s always been there.

I can still see the shimmering flare in my sleep.
A star blinking where foul currents stalk and creep.

All still, the ocean I love, tightens its claim.
Dragging me deeper for nacre's riches and fame.

The deep hums low; it calls my name.
Lungs burn hot; my heart's on flame.

I’m diving for nacre. 
Locked in rough shell’s keep.

It's just out of reach … 
just out of reach … 
It's just out of reach …

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