No method to my crazy stride

Beyond the waves and on the sand still,

I sit waiting to gather my courage and my will,

Out there in the sea, there is no joy, no pain,

just a profound mysticism and some rain,

I surf alone in my thoughts and clear of the rambling tide,

Yet, I find no method to my crazy stride.

The sea lulls and roars on this sultry afternoon,

More fearsome then the darkest pitch of the newest moon.

The sea beckons me to embrace and die the inevitable death,

The only solace, it assures me, must lie in faith,

I wonder, would it be as graceful as I imagine it to be?

I wonder, Isn’t faith bound to be our mortal enemy?

Faith in the inevitability of our fate and the mercy of nature?

Or Faith that civilizes an stubbornly primitive creature?

Must it always, a blind belief in an idea so foolishly preposterous be?

Must we always be misled by men treacherous as the sea?

Questions worth pondering, questions that need answering,

Are we brave enough to accept a truth offering?

Or are we mere men, of flesh and blood?

Afraid to venture forth and bring a flood,

A flood of knowledge and a flood of liberation,

A flood that makes Noah of our entire generation.

Such inappropriate leisure unsuited to such inappropriate tedium,

This is not the voice of God and I am not a prophetic medium,

I am an ordinary bloke, confounded by mystery and profound thought,

I may not even care enough to act and have the future wrought,

I accept our ineluctable fates and the helplessness of our devices,

I think and I write but I stay clear of footfalls and crevices.

Beyond the waves and on the sand still,

I sit waiting to gather my courage and my will,

Out there in the sea, there is no joy, no pain,

just a profound mysticism and some rain,

I surf alone in my thoughts and clear of the rambling tide,

Yet, I find no method to my crazy stride.

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