An Exhalation Which Is of an Unknown Origin

At the interface of waves,
Doesn’t matter much which kind,
But let’s say wind and water,

The border Odysseus
Rode all those years, just a seam,
One very few lives make home

Compared to those under it
Who breach it now and again,
Compared to those over it

Who float on it now and then,
Compared to those on the land.
Just a seam, an interface,

Where some waves shape each other
From different modalities,
The wind ruffling the water,

The water dragging the wind,
That’s where you’ll discover
The nature of nothing much.