The surfer and its wave

A wave rolled in this morning,
T’was just like any other I had surfed before,
The white crests lapping against each other,
The sand dragging back around the empty shells.
Another day, another beach, another board riding high,
No different to this day or tomorrow,
Except for this day is new and alone,
No gull diving in the same spot,
To land the same fish, in the same manner.
This surfer, riding a new wave,
Zig zagging,
Criss crossing, 
Going up, 
Going down,
Until the perfect tunnel rolls in
And they coast into the beach, 
The fins dragging along the sand.
Standing up, and strolling through the breakers
As they lap along the shore, 
Another surfer has passed, 
None that follow will traverse the same path
Nor will the waves that carry it, ride the same tide again,
Such is the surfer and its wave.