Budging The Noodle

while surfacing in the liquid grove of our punji sticks 
and pine sap fire
we lose our hearing… and whalesongs become a myth 
as we emerge from the abyss -
as abysmal as a flotilla of spirals 
and as deaf as a merciful nod.
but we see the Sun 
for the first time.
and with our beginnings begun -
we be gone...

beyond.