Original Poem: Waves
The wave that lashes out the cliff when the tide is high and the moon is bare
The wave strong enough to wash you away
The wave that drowns most fishermen at night or even as they scatter their nets to hoard fish
The wave enchanted for tourists and mellow natives
The wave that manifests the sorrows of the sea
Home to diversified beauty and ageless mystery
The wave that takes away what you give it, stores it somewhere neglected
The wave that tells the story it reads from the secret bottles collected, from little stones of wishes thrown, from screams of people who visited
The waves unstable, dangerous and calming
If I were the waves, would you be my surfer instead?
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