To give you back this wave
I would have to give back
the black
spaces
fretted with film of spray,
darker and deeper than the mind
they are emblems of
Not only the creator fury
of the whitest churn
the caldron of all life
but the blankness underlying
Thinking of the sea I think of light
lacing, lacing the water
the blue knife of a radiant consciousness
bent by the waves of vision as it pierces
to the deepest grotto
And I think of those lives we tried to live
in our globed helmets, self-enclosed
bodies self-illumined gliding
safe from the turbulence
and how, miraculously, we failed