The mystics have it all wrong:
You were never just a wave
Rushing rotely in to shore
Waves may not know they’re water
But I recognized the arched back of your crest
Just before it broke against the beach
You can say waves are transient form
But I’m certain it’s your sea spray alone
That burns my eyes when you crash.
I’ll gather what’s left of you
Swirling in the frothy oneness
And riptide us out to the deeper sea
Where the sharks circle
The whales, the stingrays
Beneath our braided vortex.
Un-hold your non-form,
As we wait for the Leviathan,
Dare it try to snatch our woven void.
Let it thrash and thrash
The vast blue surface and never
Be able to drag us down