It’s like the rumbling beneath the surface of the earth, below the persistence of the roots of trees and hands of man in this fight with the wind.
The slow movement of tectonic plates echos in this deep rumbling within my skin. It is pinned to my sleeves and has bleached the colour of the clothes I’ve worn for three days now. It is so much a part of me that it is easy to forget that is here.
It is easy to live above the surface in an untethered state of blindness.
It is easy to pierce the bubble and anchor me to the truth.
The drills screech and burrow deep by the highway and the deafening roar of this beast rolls around in choppy waves. I can hear nothing but the tide crashing against solid shore.
I seek comfort in the silver light of the snake in the dark night to swim.