It's like, you're just blinking and trying to stop the world distorting and swirling and spinning in front of your eyes, but you know it's your head that's that way, and all of a sudden three years have passed. Almost like you're in the same room, same fire burning in the hearth (there's no fire, there's no fireplace) and everyone about you has dissapeared. Your vision's still swimming too. Maybe it's started to sink or drown.
Narcissus leaned closer to the pool,
And in a moment he was gone,
The water surface closing over him as easy as closing a book
Isn't.
The light already grew dark as he sank.
Where is my love? He turns, arms swirling round;
Circling, glancing over his shoulder, hairs lifted and floating
Like some drowned reed.
Methinks this is my love.
He stops looking,
Closing his eyes like the dilated pupil of a lake,
Closed with ice.
His lips part beautifully.
The water surrounds him, pressing against that skin,
So soft, so blue.
Why does my love not embrace me?
He inhales, drinking deep of the Lethian fluid
This must surely be my darling.
He does not open his eyes to see the distorted world around him.
His feet finally sink into the fine sand of the pit of that pool.
Tugged further by the weight of all he doesn't care for,
The rest of his body follows.
Aquatic plants sprout about him, feel about him, coil about him,
Whisper about him.
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