There are times
When the soul
Settles, drifts into the depths
The colored like the impenetrable blues
Of an oceanic trench.
There is nothing to buoy it up
Pursuits seem empty
I can see the light shimmering on the surface
There is hope to be seen
All is not lost.
For now though, nothing propels me upward
Even the tides have no power to press me back and forth.