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