Prism

It begins with a curve, gentle, deliberate. This wave doesn’t crash. It folds. Not with speed, but with precision. But the water doesn’t just move. It refracts. Light enters and shifts, breaking into angles, bending into color. The surface faceted, each plane catches the sky and folds it back inwards, like the ocean is rethinking itself mid-break. This isn’t collapse. It’s transformation. Everything in motion, but nothing out of place. Each fold sharpens the form. Each refraction adds depth. It feels like the water is learning to become something else, shedding its fluid nature for something precise, reflective, evolved.
Not chaos, not calm. Just the next stage of motion.