Beneath the surface

In the British museum sits
The Rosetta stone
Used to resurrect a dead tongue

Death is now breathing down my neck
Mine is now a drowning world
Oxygen starved

my heart and Intellect at odds
Struggling in a fluid world to function

Young Champollion had a gift for interruption
A door teased open
Into an unseen realm of civilisation

So it was in our first summer
You revealed to me a part of me
I could not myself identify

With vision blurred
Once keen insight is lost

I was wreaked when you found me
You healed me
Now I, am twice wreaked

Suffering the bends
A half drowned man
I can not see the ship from which I fell

The breathing apparatus is weakened
Worn out by time and use
Ready to break like brittle glass
how is it so hard to do what once came naturally?

The Rosetta stone was lost in desert sands for centuries
But found again as a key to a forgotten world
Can all such riddles be solved?

With love I find it is not so
If the mind can be reformed
A tesseract opening to wider dimensions

Just as the coral is bright in healthy oceans
The desert and ocean shift
The world reforms
In pains of birth and death
What pale light shines down from the surface
is it fate that brings us to our ends?