Never Have I Ever

Never have I ever

felt true cold as I played god amongst the stars,

who giggled at my stupidity, bored enough to play along.

Nor have I licked the starlight off my visor;

or known if it looks different when beheld at night;

or known if it sings different when you run out of air.

No, I’ve never done that.

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Shocking really, but never have I ever

took the leap into endless indigo ink,

as I placed my life in the hands of men,

trusting science to bring me back.

Never have I waded through rivers of cosmic dust;

nor laid naked eye on the Moon's acne scars;

nor urged the Earth to dance for me,

as I counted it's perfect pirouettes. And,

though I always seem to drift,

nor have I ever been truly weightless.

I never will.

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Yet, oh, have I ever

silently slipped below the surface,

first to coax a ripple on virgin waters;

sole diver, observer, explorer to all.

I have known utter stillness—

the kind that irons wrinkled brow,

and warmly seeps into your belly;

I’ve even met the friendly giant who lives below

and kindly eats the buzzing in your ear.

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Oh, have I ever

answered my sweet Siren's call,

a liquid temptress forged for me;

strained to hear the mistress's secrets,

though I know nothing leaks in this tepid tomb.

I’ve calmly met the Reaper’s eye,

and blissfully played her favorite games;

been gently lured deeper, lower than before

and would have given my heavy kiss

if the bubble had not broke.

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It's true! Oh, have I ever

heard a murmur in the waves,

"Lover, be not afraid” from watery lips;

felt the charming scratch from phantom limbs

who traveled far from a life once known;

I’ve willingly surrendered to the womb,

taking the tranquility it kindly shares,

for like calls to like.

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Never have I ever

floated in the deep dark heavens

but I know You; I’ve felt You,

in the deep calm waters.

I know You; You’ve held me

as I drift below.