Hesitation To Meet
Today I feel like an ocean wave.
Waiting to hit the shore in anticipation.
As if traveled a thousand miles,
to search for a stopping point.
With every cycle,
comes my turn,
to make it to the shore,
as is the destiny of every wave
But I find myself hesitating,
lack the courage to see this voyage end,
and I'm fearful of crashing onto the shore,
thinking I will splash into a million pieces,
turn into insignificant drops,
get swallowed by the sand,
and slowly disappear.
I fear to imagine;
My might,
built of power of the sea,
and forces of the wind,
the WILL that rocked gigantic vessels,
and shaved the sharp corners of the granite,
to the smoothness of the marble,
now at the brink of destination,
preparing to loose its valor,
and turn its enormous weight,
into the lightness of the mist.
I hesitate;
And move backwards against the wind,
offering my turn to other waves,
buying time,
and measuring the distance,
I duck beneath the deep,
letting the wind pass me by,
hoping I can endure another cycle.
I reminisce the past;
When I would flow to any direction,
meet oncoming waves of every size,
surrender to horrendous wind at night,
and find myself in uncharted waters by the morning,
not solicitous of where I was,
as everywhere was a home,
every darkness was a comfort,
every rage was a tranquil.
Prominence not an aim,
salience not a mission.
And I would take the hardest seethe,
with the morose rant,
wrap them in my ripple,
and send them away,
to the edge of the horizon,
then proudly crash on the face of mellifluous being,
and penetrate the elixir of normality.
And I was rewarded;
For every move I made,
every boat I pushed along,
and every cloud I helped to form.
The canyons of the sea,
would cheer me on,
the sun would glow,
to give me a shine,
and the wind would whistle,
for one more time.
I cherish those times,
and the freedom of the pellucid life,
as I was part of all.
And now I see;
The mountains in the horizon,
the solid land in range of vision,
and I can feel that I'm too close,
to the end of the raging sea.
I look around and I wonder,
why is every wave in a hurry,
looking forward to collision, with a bolder head on.
I know this crash is not my destiny,
that I will diminish when I hit the shore,
lacerate my heart,
ravage the lighthouse,
and leave a wreckage behind.
And I know,
neither I, nor the beacon of the lighthouse,
deserve the encounter.
So I will move back,
ride the opposing wind,
to the depth of the sea.
But will leave a part of me,
in the waters of proximity,
as a token of my existence,
and as a sign that I was there.
From time to time,
I will come back,
touch the waters I left behind,
and will ask them if they saw,
a dimming beacon,
or a blinking light,
hoping they will tell me,
'We Saw Glowing Torches'.
I long to kiss the distant land,
And penetrate the illusive sand,
But I won't cause any gores,
I am a stranger to my shores.
~ Sharky ~
© 1999 Sharky (All rights reserved)