Abyss

Beneath the last reach of the sun, the dark learned to make its own light.

Where light still remembers the sky.

Sunbeams lean through the water like tired columns of a drowned cathedral. Everything here is still borrowed light.

The blue thins into rumour.

Red goes first, then yellow, then green. What remains is a blue so faint it feels like a memory of colour.

Here, every light is alive.

Ninety percent of what lives down here glows. Touch the dark and watch it answer.

You are the brightest thing for miles.

Click. Somewhere in the black, something is listening.