The Wave

I dreamed I was on a stage, trying to yell a tsunami down with every word dipped in fire like whistling harpoons from my mouth.

Please let me be right for once, like a diving falcon.

Let my words be enough to sway you without an orchestra and pixels and assuring introductions about their importance

Let me strike that magic in you like a four chord pop song.

Do not lose to the wave sweeping you up in ecstasies of words and colors and plastic pleasures —

— Water tingling with electric addiction, but it is not new.

Just think of those people covered in dung and holding a book for the first time, walking in front of a horse with their noses in words,

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Glued to thoughts and unreality, but I do not believe that.

If what is unreal can make me feel like getting slapped by a black hole then I cannot say it is unreal. Solipsism is bullshit.

Get off the surface of the wave,
which grew from all our splashing.

Dive below your practical currents
until you reach the bedrock of your soul.
Get your emotions under your fingernails and dig and dig and dig.

I will be waiting for you to tunnel and join me on the stage,

Where the salt-wind from the great wave burns your face
and you must write your own lines,
but where you can be yourself and know yourself

better than the wave.

Originally published on write.as, which is the best place to read my work. I publish on Medium for exposure. If you like my work and want to show some support, the best way is to share it or buy me a ☕.

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