I have lakes, and lakes, and lakes, of sadness inside me.
At the edge of each are golden sedges and meadow flowers, and the mist above each is rainbow hued because high up there, the sun is shining in a perfect bright sky. As I walk through this landscape, I pick wildflowers, I smile at the rainbows, I turn my face up to the sun.
My feet dry in the warmth, on solid ground.
And just ahead, there is the next lake.
The flowers float to the surface, but I do not follow, not for a long time. Deeper and deeper and deeper until I touch the soft dark sand at the bottom. And then it's a long, dark, cool swim back to the open sky, not knowing which is up and which is down, until the surface breaks and I'm back amongst my floating flowers.