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?