When Light Finds the Deep

It begins—not with a sound,

but with silence splitting like a seed beneath the soil.

The water, still as breath, held in awe,

waits beneath a morning veil—a hush of mist, a hush of mystery.

Then, a golden fingertip—sunlight—pierces through the surface,

not shattering it, but kissing it into clarity.

Ribbons of radiance undulate downward,

threading silk through the blue-lit hush,

a soft unraveling of shadow.

The dark below—forgotten depths,

echo chambers of time—begin to stir,

stirred not by force but by the sheer grace of being seen.

And in that shimmering reach, what once hid—

ancient stones, slow-dancing fish, the quiet heart of the water—

begins to shine back.

This is how spirit speaks:

not with thunder, but with the gentlest light,

making its way one ripple at a time.

Created with help by AI from a variety of feelings, snips of felt text and mind images based on reading the category description. Once generated, it was modified to more fully express my voice.