From the womb of nothingness we usually sit,
Whether we hurried there by car, by bike, by skateboard or foot
Her cobalt and grey, salt, wind and wave come to life and deposits us breathless from her midst.
We commune with eternity, we are fools for the slide
What we long for is that present now, that connectedness with all things
With all time.
We surf to lose ourselves, our greed, our sins, we long for reality,
For sliding, tuning our legs, feet, heels and toes
Angling for more speed for more rush, for more skill.
Drops of water, spray from the gift, refresh us and make us one, with now.
As we sit and drift, we breath a deep sigh, this will end soon and we will ride, or skate or drive back to disconnectedness.