as the surfer waits,
open, alert and drifting
on the scintillating surface
of the deep.
Floating between the double mysteries
(the dreaming lunar depths of Artemis
and the burning eye of Apollo),
poet and surfer, twin magicians, wait
and conjure the cosmic wave
(the birthing surge of inspiration
and the promised ecstasy of flight)
from the sunken shadows
of fathomless night
into the dazzling day.
They rise with the rising
and merge with ancient lines
of singing surf and
the rhythm of the timeless sea.
On crests of liquid light
they skim the churning fingers,
the white and curving filaments
of Hokusai foam,
and feathered by the ocean wind
they dance the sacred dance
of word and tide and fire
onto shores of spent desire
and the glance of fallen stars.