A descent through four acts of light, from the sunlit skin of the sea to the ember bed of the abyss.
Millions of drifting lanterns, neither animal nor flower, remember the sun with cold blue light.
The deep broadcasts in pulses of cyan and violet. A cathedral of motion without a single audible tone.
The earth exhales through black chimneys, writing veins of fire into a world that has never seen the sun.
The surface is a memory now, folded into the last light and the long quiet.