Ocean waves cresting toward the shore,
rearing, surging, like powerful white stallions,
thrusting to escape the dark miry depths that have kept them
tethered for Neptuneís adventurous expeditions.
Each stallion races against the others
to be the first to reach shore, as a powerful escaping force.
Thrusting energy, snorting violently to breath the air of freedom,
never to stride painfully tamed along the depths of the ocean floor again.
Hoofs grinding each wave, racing against each other,
pounding surf to move toward dry sand with each ebb tide.
White manes flowing, rising in massive peaks above the blue rises
drawn by the moonís force.
Sadly, they crashingly peak with all their energy, all their strength,
only to break unescapingly over a surferís pipeline, coughing and spitting,
strength depleted, creeping helplessly to shore, stealing a squeal of excitement from a small child as it enviously tickles the toes of youth, weakly echoing its existence, sinking into the sand, drawn unwillingly, controlled by the throes of Neptuneís reigns and bridles.