Third clifftop poem: Rescuing dots at Matsushima

Up here, the entire world is blue:
the sea floats into the sky.
Below, the water gently licks
the fragile cloud-round rocks.

Specks gleam; they beckon from the waves
blinking like thousands of tears.
You climb down, reach your fingers out.
insects dance away.

Then you’re enticed by mysterious lights
drifting and pulsing far below
deep in the ever-darkening blue.
For these, you’re impelled to to dive.

Oceans under the world
too black for you to see
you lunge, you stretch, you blindly grab
and something nestles in your hand.

Is it water? Is it blue?
Will it mend your life?
Gasping for air, you surface
and prise your fingers loose.

“Is it anything?” they ask.
Breathlessly, you shake your head.
Shining tears pour off.
Whatever it was
it didn’t survive the light. 

© Dennis List