And onwards through the space at its edge, circling the sphere, within the glare of glistening oceans below; the reflection of light so full and engrossing; this water world of wonder; our base, our womb. Unique to the inhabitants, in the safety of our bubble, yet just one of an infinite soda, in a race to the surface.
The beauty of sand, filtered and formed, manipulated to light-bending solid and otherwise invisible, holding that liquid but not containing it, for escapist ideas can never be held long, and seek the path of greatest freedom; a digression in imagery for love of simplicity, and all that is sweet, inherent and hinted at, contained within such limited walls, yet limitless perspective, from the ogive displacement, is enough to satisfy those curious eyes.
Can one think of the place most desired in this moment; but yes, it is there in mind. When granted reprieve to the elevation and sink, to where gravity once again pulls at the iron in his blood, the draw is active, and relativity tested, for the spin which holds all, welcomes him home, to rest himself true, and lay his head against her breast once more.
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