The surfer waits
For the right wave
Patiently poised
But inside like an addict
He craves
For the right mix of chemicals
To bring life to the screen
However under the surface
Glide hidden monsters
Unseen
Watch him effortlessly surf
The crest of the huge wave
Twisting and turning
Free as a bird
No longer a slave
However...
The same wave that brings freedom
Can also spell doom
For the tide is a prisoner of the moon
Surfing on a knife edge
Into the other realm he delves
Facing the hidden monsters
Should they be described in detail?
Or kept to oneself?
Is this spectacular ride too steep?
Too tall?
Will he wipe out?
And bleed out
Punctured by the plumes
Of razor sharp coral