The wave that lashes out the cliff when the tide is high and the moon is bare

The wave strong enough to wash you away

The wave that drowns most fishermen at night or even as they scatter their nets to hoard fish

The wave enchanted for tourists and mellow natives

The wave that manifests the sorrows of the sea

Home to diversified beauty and ageless mystery

The wave that takes away what you give it, stores it somewhere neglected

The wave that tells the story it reads from the secret bottles collected, from little stones of wishes thrown, from screams of people who visited 

The waves unstable, dangerous and calming 

If I were the waves, would you be my surfer instead?


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