Sunday, May 22, 2022



Every island is a mountain in the middle of the ocean

And every mountain is an island stranded in a dry sea

I imagine you’re the warm tropical surf

Lapping against my wind lashed stone 

It’s the perfect combination:

A damaging wisdom mixed with lust 

Some stars become someone’s honored Sun

But all Suns are just another world's distant star 

To notice on clear dark nights

Maybe once or twice a year

Will we stay here long enough

To see our home become a ruins?

Can we bear to watch a raw weeping wound

Scab over and someday thicken into scar?

The opposite of love was never hate

For the loveless are simply the lonely. 

On this dry plain I prefer to call myself an island.

Storms are coming, I sense the waters rising 


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