Island

"ISLAND"
October 2009

There is no distraction.

I could wallow pitifully
In perfect fantasy:
Living surrounded by beauty
On the most serene
Beaches of all continents,
And mysterious lakes,
And all the world's pools.

I could roam in the depths
Of shallow love
And wade in the misery
Of constant ecstasy.

In the endless waters
Filled with living things,
Vast, and great organic things,
Numerous, but only things,
Islands grow.
Dots on a canvas.

She is one,
And small,
And treacherous,
But the sun always finds her,
And shines on her,
Illuminates her above all else.

The ocean's current drags me
Away from here,
But I always see this
Painful paradise,
A mere dot in the distance.