poetry (phoenix rising swell abating)

It's time
not for the blessing of nature
but for the belief of oneself to become
the distant sums of an unplanned reality
a destiny entwined with a measure of faith on the capabilities lurking beneath the surface
time waits for no man but the man with a plan
and plans, though lost in the abyss of years
never cease to exist
I waited a while
went to the depths to see if the terror was real
and found only lack of the man in the mirror unwilling to do the hard yards to become what he must
But maybe i need proof, like a video edit of all the things i need to understand why or how
a Reo played back to me, perfect and fins free to see i could be
something without a sponsor or people around validating what the man in the mirror said could become
reality
Progression is measured not in height but depth of belief
unwavering even as the mediocre swell begins to fade
In it's end becomes a new beginning:
I will believe what i don't always know
i can be still anything
lest a surfer without a sponsor and no hope of doing a rodeo flip
become something to himself without need for outside validation
obsessed maybe with cylindrical dreams of waves never surfed and places never been
If i stay static it will be static of belief
that the phoenix still rises
when people don't see it