Delicately dancing
on the rising waves
they ride walls
meters high

They entertain, they thrill
receive applause thundering
and place lives in peril
for an addictive adrenaline high

At their best
when wind and the waves
and everything else
favours their ways
more than humans
less than gods
intoxicatingly sublime
they are

When a tired sea
like a dead night
loses its undulating outline
and falls silent
wind sheaths its scabbard
blows the last funeral pipe
drops down several notches
and goes quiet

The surfers get lost
in an immobile expanse
almost near the shore
yet too far to reach it

Moments ago standing tall
they now avoid falls
lying prone
on the surfboard
all they can manage
in that space
is paddle with
just their arms

But where can they arrive
at the shore waiting to ignore
or the sea waiting to drown

With exhilaration and glory
now a fading memory
their calling high
till moments back
is now rendered unworthy
of any sacrifice

Reputations rise and fall
with waves
fame travels and halts
with winds
and the fickle public are painfully
defeat shy