He was drowning in the ocean,
    and there was nothing he could do.
He was drowning in the sea,
    he was drowning in pure blue.

With each movement, gesture, and word,
    it became quite very clear.
He was sinking quickly, deeply
    to the very point he feared.

As much as he kicked and struggled,
    as much as he fought and screamed,
He knew this foreign feeling
    was exactly what it seemed.

Denial came at first,
    mind working oh-so quickly,
But he still could not deny,
    that he was sinking just as swiftly.

He was dizzy and breathless,
    but without a single clue
As to of why he was so helpless
    to that never-ending blue.

The surface was now far away,
    Survival looked so bleak.
He would never break for air,
    his struggles growing weak.

'It should never have come like this,' He thought,
    'It should not have come so soon.'
He never imagined at such sweet youth
    he would meet a fatal doom.

His sight became blurry,
    And his motions became null.
But with each inch he fell
    he felt so much more whole.

Just as he thought all hope was lost,
    He gave the concept an embrace,
He finally grew to accept it --
    and immediately came a face.

"It's not as bad as you think,"
    said the smile, confident and cool.
"I'm glad you've come to terms;
    so long you've been a fool."

As he saw a hand reach out,
   Trained, and smooth, and thin --
He saw his hand reaching back,
   fingers brushing skin.

Their hands grew intertwined,
    and breath was drawn again.
He found himself saved,
    by the one who pushed him in.