I'm swimming around in notions of water and this poem came to me. I mentioned it in a hubski post about a year ago, but only quoted a line or two. This poem is a reminder to take risks (if I ever want to see the silver reaches of the estuary).

The Swimmer’s Moment

   For everyone
   The swimmer’s moment at the whirlpool comes,
   But many at that moment will not say
   ‘This is the whirlpool, then.’
   By their refusal they are saved
   From the black pit, and also from contesting
   The deadly rapids, and emerging in
   The mysterious, and more ample, further waters.
   And so their bland-blank faces turn and turn
   Pale and forever on the rim of suction
   They will not recognize.
   Of those who dare the knowledge
   Many are whirled into the ominous centre
   That, gaping vertical, seals up
   For them an eternal boon of privacy,
   So that we turn away from their defeat
   With a despair, not for their deaths, but for
   Ourselves, who cannot penetrate their secret
   Nor even guess at the anonymous breadth
   Where one or two have won:
   (The silver reaches of the estuary).
      - Margaret Avison (1918 - 2007)