Image Description: A photo of the Waitomo Glow Worm caves. The ceiling is dimly illuminated by countless blue dots and the far end of the tunnel is illuminated by sunlight.
The silhouette of a young man straightens as he pushes us away from the dock, and then blends into the dark. Our gondola drifts down the tunnel without an engine, never touching the walls.
Unafraid, I look up and drink in the stars.
Close enough to touch, they cluster in constellations I’ve never named. If I grazed my fingertips along the tender blue dots, I’d comb my fingers through the diamond silks that knit the cosmos together. Until I see gaps where a world once glowed; its pieces floating, revealing the stars behind.
The boatman is gracious to let us circle it, letting me admire the broken shape, like something with which I was once familiar. He pulls us along the threads with silent hands through the dark.
(The only sounds are the still river and echoing droplets. No breathing.)
Before I can ask to linger, I am carried down the river, leaving this cavern behind for a white and leafy shore. I watch the shape for as long as I am allowed.
Goodbye, broken planet.
This more prosaic piece came to me after touring the Waitomo glow worm caves on the North Island of New Zealand. Even then, I felt like was experiencing something else, something I probably wouldn't experience until the curtain closed on my life.
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