The Coin and the Abyss

I am like a coin cast into the vast ocean water, a small circle of silver slipping through the fingers of a hurried world. I watch the surface light fracture and fade into a thousand shimmering shards as I go deep down, further than the reach of the sun, into a place where no one can see. I am the plane that never passed the Alaska triangle; a ghost in the static, a signature lost on the radar of humanity. No one knows where I landed, and no one mapped the coordinates of my silence. Sometimes, in the quietest hours of the crushing deep, I want to be found. I want a hand to reach through the salt and the cold to pull me back to the air. But then the logic of the depths sets in: who would ever waste their time looking for a single coin in a sea so vast? Who would search the frozen peaks for a flight the world has already forgotten? It is hard, this descent, but as long as I am going forward, I tell myself it will get better. I am missing in the dark forest of my head, wandering where no light shines through, wondering if a sun will ever rise. Yet, I choose to let my heart lead; perhaps the road ahead is only visible to those who walk in the dark.