Sounds in the black
I'm in the well. The deep well of what have I done. Below me echoes the sound of a thousand feet of blank air. Above me, light fades to a pinprick. On all sides are the slick, slimy bricks built to hold back the earth, to keep it from caving in, to create a passage for bringing water from below. Once, I looked over into my child's face and saw myself staring back. Saw the insecurities and pride, the wonder and alarm. It was strange and yet - satisfying. I've created immortality, it flows in his veins. And yet, he is his own self. A self I have always known. He is both new and old at the same time, a million years of love and change meeting in the moment of conception. Lives won and lost, all leading to the here and now. Looking over, I see him as if distantly. It sounds like nonsense, these words with no form. These thoughts that pour out like ink on the page. It sounds like too much thinking and not enough sleeping. It sounds strange. I