Sink

Swimmers in water come up for air.
I swim in God without a prayer.
I won't even come up for fire.
What Moses spoke and Buddha said
can't overcome my current of desire.

Memory throws me hope, a thread.
The tongue clings to an "O!"
But this heart yearns to drown,
refusing all light from above.
Others reach up, but I sink down.
My grace is letting go
in the fathomless dark abyss of love.