Thunderwater

I am thunder water . I am the underwater panther, neptunes steed, but you don’t know the half of it.

I am the thunder bird, great king of the air, with no need to ever land. Soaring, swimming, I glide and snake and slither and slide through ancient history and back again. Perhaps you cannot see me? No longer feel my talons raking across your back? No longer hear the hissing from deep within the milky darkness of water? Don’t be fooled by this. My invisible being lives. Still I rise, still I fall. As with your breath. As with the tide. When was I torn in two? Birthed twice? In which time and place? I only remember my wholeness . With wings for flight, and scales for swimming. My dark body camouflaged by night or depth. But still, you don’t even know the half of it. What waters do I Inhabit? Certainly not your lakes or even oceans.

What air do I breathe? Certainly not that of the sky above you. Can you even imagine these waters, here, that I am In now? Can you begin to understand these airs, here, That I breathe now? Circling in my sinuous dance above, below, above, below, above…. below.

don’t look for me. For here your eyes can’t see.

Don’t listen for me. For here your ears can’t hear. But the rhythm inside you will lead straight to me. And in dance, my secrets will be revealed. To those who don’t listen, or see.

To those who feel me whole.