To the one who dives

I see you.

Your eyes,

They’re dark,

Must have lost their light down here—

The sun doesn’t reach these parts.

You came here to hide,

I came to drown.

Funny how you can search for years

And still feel like you're stuck where you started.

You dig through the sand—

Miles and miles deep—

Only to find what you began with.

But down here,

The deeper you go,

The less you find of anything familiar.

You climb into your submarine,

Steel-walled and pressurized,

A machine more alive than you,

Its circuits humming like the pulse of a distant star.

You descend further,

Beyond the point where light bends and breaks,

Where the ocean becomes its own world.

A place where time is measured in atmospheres.

The pressure here is unnatural—

It twists and warps reality,

Just like your mask.

Sleek, black,

Made of carbon alloy,

Reflecting the void around you—

No seams, no entry points.

A seamless fusion of technology and survival,

But what are you really hiding?

You tell me it’s for air,

For life support in this hostile place.

But I know you’re hiding something more.

Something beneath the silence, beneath that polished surface.

The suit you wear,

Biometric, tailored,

Fits you too perfectly—

Like it was designed to hold you together,

Prevent you from slipping apart.

A second skin,

But it’s not just for the cold of the depths—

It’s armour against something inside you,

Something you refuse to let show.

What do you fear more than this ocean?

What do you hide beneath those layers?

You plunge deeper,

Passing creatures whose bioluminescence flickers like dying data,

Coral reefs pulse with the glow of forgotten technologies,

A squid, its tentacles like cables reaching for the unknown,

An underwater city lost to time.

Do you ever get tired?

Do you see the irrelevance of it all?

Do you feel the weight of the ocean?

The crushing pressure that bends bones and breaks wills—

A thousand atmospheres,

A thousand lives,

All weighed down,

Crushed underwater,

Where light doesn’t touch,

And time seems to freeze,

Stretching into infinity,

Like a glitch in the system.

You keep going,

You keep searching—

But what are you really looking for?

What can you possibly find in a place where even the air is toxic?

The deeper you go,

The more alien this place becomes.

A world with no surface,

No escape.

You gasp for air,

Choking on the salt and the silence.

But there is no air here.

Only saltwater,

Only the deep.

Good luck.

I see you wish you could survive.

Me? I don’t see the point.

We spent years searching,

“Answers must be found,” they said,

But all we find are fragments—

The echoes of the past.

And now—

When the earth will end,

When the sky truly is falling,

Now they cry.

Now they give up.

Not me.

Up there, they scream.

The world is ending.

But down here,

No one is yelling.

Everyone is already dead.

The prey have been caught,

And the abyss will claim us all.

So climb into your submarine,

Go back to the surface,

Live a couple more years.

Be discovered.

Enjoy it.

I’ll wait.

Till the sea brings everything down with it.

Till it swallows you whole.