Tell me little wave, who are you when the shoreline has receded when the gaze of hunters no longer pierces your soul when the tide no longer names you and the wind no longer cares who are you when the ripples go still when the pond is empty and the mask is uneeded
do you still stand tall when no one is there to see it or do your shoulders sink beneath the quiet do your hands still reach for the fire when there is no one left to share its warmth
when the voices fade and the crowd disolves when the night stetches long and you are left with only yourself do you know the shape of your own soul do you know its weight, its hunger, or its terrible ache
too many live in immitation bending to draw the gaze of others a shifting hallow thing a shadowy ghost of an expectation
but when the ocean stills and your mirror grows dark what do you see does the silence frighten you like a drowned man finally going still or do you seach for echoes to remind you that you esist
who are you little wave when no one is watching when no one will ever know when no history will be written when no lips will speak your name
who are you little wave, and are you enough?
