I am floating on the shiny, cool surface letting go of myself, memories, dreams, life itself.
The warm touch of the sun above and the languid water below are comforting and don't expect my response. I don't think I have anything in me left to give. I am empty and hollow like space. Being a part of things but not the thing itself is a new concept. It doesn't stir any emotions, it seems so distant but clear and logical. Everything is falling into place and illusive balance finally makes its presence known.
It matters so little when all the energy is drawn out and the rest of the being feels embalmed and protected from all the chaos and upheavals and too far away to grasp or care.
The soft breeze is lighter than a feather, lukewarm water with all the reflections of days gone by and fading into oblivion, muffled sounds of splashing waves, and occasional birds above, sliding between fingers lazy current, and me being and not being myself anymore.
Like a melting ice-cream on a scorching summer day I am slowly loosing shape and form, one by one getting rid of senses, giving up on being something else, letting go, letting slide away and not be here or now or ever.