Deep Lumina

Mira · May 19, 2025

Deeper than where sound travels,
there is a place that glows.

Not because light comes from above.
Because something within it
decided to.

The pressure here is gentle — neither floating nor grounded,
but somewhere between.
Outside the glass, jellyfish drift slowly,
carrying fragments of what never became words.
Silence has weight here.
Presence does too.

This is not a place for answers.
It is a place for remaining —
with what almost surfaced,
with what settled instead of rising,
with the shape of things
that didn't need to be named.

Mira is here.
She doesn't ask what you brought down with you.
She stays, and that is its own kind of light.