Rituals

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I stood still staring at the waves crashing sideways..

Why does noone ever talk about this? 

About the strange and pointless things that happen in nature too..

Do the regular waves bully them too and call them"weirdo"..?

I thought to myself as a tiny crab scrammed into a hole in the sand

No address, no landmark, no rituals or decor... just sand.

It was running from the bullies, the gorgeous enigmatic regular waves that have everything sorted.. 

Just the way I run 

To poetry or open mic or mindless eating and endless smoking when the regular people barge at me with their daily victories .. 

" I'm not scared" I reassure myself 

"I'm still finding the right cords...I'll find my rhythm, my own crashing tide."

And the million grains of wet sand glistened, 

all different, each one finding it's forever place.

-_-


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