Waves

 

In the dawn,

The water strides,

Calmly like an old man,

Stepping slowly,

One gush at a time,

Waves,

Calm and quiet,

Timid,

Like a baby boy,

Sitting on his mother’s lap,

Suckling on her bosom,

The water draws,

Upon the earth,

Calm,

Timid,

Self indulgent,

Resting.

 

The day moves on,

The waves recede,

Further and further,

Detached to the shore,

Like a cross wife,

An angry mother,

Eloquently distanced,

Wantonly astray,

Not a string,

Attaching it,

To anything living,

Dead or inanimate,

Calm, yet not so,

Angry, yet poised,

Like an evanescent ghost,

In a haunted house,

Like a broken puppet,

With detached strings,

Distant,

Separate.

 

Evening arrives,

Like a steroid,

The introvert,

Shall hence,

Become an extrovert,

The waves shed their skin,

Taking on something,

Something new,

Energetic,

Passionate,

Like a forlorn couple,

Making love,

All surrounding forgotten,

All reality forgotten,

It lashes,

Plunges,

rushes,

Squirms,

Onward with zest,

Onward and upward,

As if a curtain call,

To an upcoming drama,

Like a Pandora’s box,

With its infinite mysteries,

Unknown,

Dark,

A question,

Seldom asked,

And often unanswered.

 

 

Night arrives,

As the equivalent,

Of a far reaching death,

From the depths,

Of the unknown,

The wave lashes,

With anger,

Hate,

With the aggression of a forty year old

Underachiever,

Frustrated,

Raging,

Fast,

Unnerving,

Unrelenting,

A shadow

Of its erstwhile calm self.

 

 

Waves,

A multitude of faces,

Coiled on each other,

Facets

Without a true form.

 

Waves,

A fine example,

Of humans,

Much to be learned,

Much to be spent,

Much to be contained,

Yet little to be done.

 

I’m afraid of waves,

It resembles me too much,

In ways unchangeable,

Frightening,

Yet somehow relatable,

Unnerving,

Yet manageable,

Hyperactive,

Yet somehow hypo-reactive,

Aggressive,

Yet controlled,

An unstable concoction

Of nature and the unknown.

 

I’m afraid of waves,

As I am,

Of myself.