The night's dreams lap under the dark of morning.
They recede and return to remind that there are so many dimensions to this life.
A mythic arrival,
A cosmic war,
A divine union.
Endless proof of endless manifests.
The surface ripples in untrackable patterns from the tide's decisions underneath,
Out or in,
Downward and up.
Only the silt in the dim depths yields best.
Family and friends move freely with interdimensional gestures.
Allies come from unspeakable realms and trigger life in ways only possible when submerged.
The images sting even in flow,
Always to question how much agency do we have here.
Morning arrives at the fullness of the tide,
Turning over all the rich elements of the story bare in the brand new day.