the self rides the wave of existence

the self rides the wave of existence on the ocean of being, the surfer of the crest, the wipeout master and curl extender, in the tube and locked on, hanging ten and friendly with it. i was examining my stomach flesh and noticing the layers of dirt built up, even with my occasional showers and attempts at hygiene. i ride the wave, but the salts in the silica based rock and the waters dispersed in a hot and humid atmosphere. the big crest is formed of granite and silt and sediment of ancient oceans. its sits unmoving in my time frame but once it screamed flat across the tectonic and smashed deadly fast into the norther plates and heaved up this fold of solid wave and here i surf like some geologist who cant remember what he saw the day before and must return over and over to the same sight, to rediscover the same truth eternally until time and space reduce this wave to the sea level singularity it came from. and like the absent minded professor, i seek the same expansion, the same realization eternally, unspoken in me the knowledge that theres nothing left but repetition of eternity and its infinite manifesting, endlessly diverting, but wheres the ride end, whats the big empty that lays at the corners, ready to fold up its tent and leave when the show is over. i play not to enjoy but divert, not to experience but to qualify, as that would make sense of what isnt being captured.like it or not, ive gone the circle more than i wish to know and certainly enough to know better, and who better to know than the one not keeping track, lost in the simple pleasure of the feeling the realizing, the sudden burst and languishing freedoms that poke holes in the fabric and let the inky nothing through. im walking on the plateau, on and on, so long i dont remember how i got here, where i am or how high it is, all i see is distant mountains and a ways to go yet. and every morning i sight myself by sun and sky and peak and step on again. today i felt an extra effort needed as some incline began and i know that getting higher is all matters of degree and constant forward motion without sense of direction or end, just faith in the feet and the unending openness, all will carry me there, as surely as the wave will never move the ocean, but the surfrider will fly beyond joy.