They're Here

It happens one night during October.  When dreams are lulled to drift the reaches of your mind made by the whispers of water escaping from a surrounding sea.  By the siren of swells and rhythms that rise in swallowing wave from the silence of infinite blackness whence they came.  Time looms above, twinkling of its endless size, casting down her clearest of invitation to fall lost within the magnitude of a skyward-seizing moment.  To wander amongst the nebulae of dust powdering the very same pathway of discovery marked of fallen footsteps by untold generations of flesh come before.  To feel reduced in size, in order to gainfully grow.  For this celestial survey cast trillions of miles away across the existence of eternity.  At pinholes of light, like scattered grains of salt spilled upon the table of the heavens.  Of dark-adapted eyes conjuring revelations from concealment.  Of clustered constellations fabled and worshipped of seafaring ancients.  For the catching moment when distractions of thought and sight are lured by a streaking Orionid meteor raining rapidly from an expanse of the eastern abyss.  That cosmic-captive of billions-of-years whose fateful flash of escape only ricochets this rim of emptiness that is furthest of time’s origins billions of light-years away.  A profound pronouncement of presence only to vanish of its very presence in this world above a beam of eyes casting below, casting over all.  This chance encounter becoming of your sling of sight a breath of shining color from the vast black nothingness.  One witnessed as happenstance, shooting from the heavens.

Without warning, your rod bends hard and then you know.  They’re here.  Suddenly, immeasurable distances drawn of space and time instantly coalesce to exist only as the infinitely-small distance drawn of taut-line now separating you from the sight of breathing-color.  One of fins that may briefly, if not spectacularly, illuminate your night.  She too, has pronounced a presence, pulling from her expansive abyss, of a nomadic life invited only by this otherworldly nature of night.  One shining of streaking-colors shooting laterally amongst a vastness of spilled-salt looming over your whispering universe of sand.   One flashing at the epicenter of your own striking, celestial retrieval.  One witnessed as fortune, flopping from the starlit shallows.