The poet waits as the surfer waits

The poet waits as the surfer waits,
Open, alert and drifting
On the scintillating surface
Of the deep,
Floating between the double mysteries:
The dreaming depths of lunar sleep
And the burning eye of god.
Poet and surfer, twin magicians
Conjuring the Mother Wave,
(The birthing surge of inspiration
And the promised ecstasy of flight),
From the sunken shadows
Of moon -mind night
Into the dazzling day
They rise with the rising,
Merging 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,
Feathers in the ocean wind
Dancing the sacred dance
Of breath and word and fire
Onto sands of spent desire
And fallen stars.

(poem by Clinock)