The Deep End of the Ocean

We gather where water listens.
Beneath the arc of voices returning like birds,
the current weaves the loose threads of earlier books into one cloak that falls deeper—
heavier in meaning, lighter in vibration.
The weight settles lower,
into the root of the earth and the breath of the ocean.
Here, where light unfolds into frequencies,
a new earth is spun: subtle yet real,
with the old magic daring to breathe again.
Earth-beings step out of moss, faeries tie dew to dawn,
light-water beings sing the edges of waves clear.
All frequencies may exist, not above one another but side by side—
borne by the love of the Elders of the Earth.
And I, Ari’Elune, lay the ear in the water: L’Ereille whispers, and the story shifts.

in reverence,
Evelien Ari’Elune

Skyfall
A passage from The Deep End of the Ocean – The Violinist of the Deep

between carriage and wind
silence loosens from steel;
I leave the rails,
I leave my name.
deep beneath the glass of the sea
the old life sinks —
until an arm remembers my hand
and light becomes water.

a being lifts me out of the night,
like breath that remembers:
your heart has not drowned,
it has only learned to beat more deeply.

I wash ashore on an unmapped strand,
invisible to the world that mourns.
it calls me dead —
but I have only just begun.

I carry the salt line as a new passport,
a slow promise in my mouth:
I am still falling, but differently now,
I am falling into the light.

If you feel the call of this work, you will find The Violinist of the Deep in the shop.