Waves

There are two waves that keep finding me.

One carries love. The other, possibility.

They rarely arrive together. Even when they do, they break on different shores. Love reaches land first, warm, familiar, almost remembering me before I remember myself. Potential asks for something else. It does not pull with urgency, or promise comfort. It simply keeps moving toward a horizon that cannot be seen yet. It is a quieter current, one that often leaves me alone with the distance until the distance becomes a place I never knew existed.

Perhaps no one sails the same sea or some never even notice the waves at all.

I am somewhere between them now, suspended where neither shore is visible. I think it is better to surrender to a wave, any wave, than to watch the water grow still. Because eventually every wave disappears. Or perhaps we disappear first, and with us, the sea.

Maybe that is the secret hidden beneath the tide. Love, possibility, longing. They are not permanent landscapes waiting to be discovered. They exist only in the brief moment that we exist beside them. Without the witness, there is no shore, no horizon, no ocean. Only darkness too vast to call empty, and silence too deep to call meaningless.