this is this is it this is it, you think, staring up at the wave building above you. you are so small and it is so powerful and you are swept away. water rushes past you and you think you hear singing, salt fills your mouth and you taste heaven burning the back of your throat. this is what it feels like to fly in front of a thunderstorm, all energy and momentum and a kind of ecstatic fear and you are light and light and light–
the wave passes. your knee skids against the sand and stings viciously. you rise; the water is already being sucked back out to sea, inexorably. you follow it. another wave rises, but you are too far away, and it crests before it reaches you. you dive under the foam and divinity is in the salt stinging your face.
this is the closest to home you’ve felt in a long, long while.