Is there room for waves
in this world?
Room for their
certain uncertainty?
Room for their
cresting and crashing
constantly,
and cresting again.
Room for their
chatter that perpetuates
coastline after coastline
only unheard on the inside,
distanced.
Room for their
meek withdrawals,
though bold returns.
Their majestic power,
the pounding persistence,
the relentlessness,
the flux,
the movement,
the vastness,
the transcendence.
…

Is There Room For A Flood?
From the Book – Fine Tangled Strands