My Island

Singularly alone in the flat and blueless ocean:

arid, wind-swept, lonesome and battered Island.

Soul, Doubt and Feeling reside here:

ongoing war, futile struggle,

atomic to end all atomics:

cannibalism of Soul by Doubt and Feeling,

no Doubt, no Feeling...

No Feeling, no Soul.

Desolate, magnificently bleak domain

where I dare lay the corpse of my youth

hemorrhaging of wants, mistakes and sorrows...

Tomorrow perhaps

I'll surf the rainbow

before plunging into the terminal abyss

of boredom, regret and sameness

but tonight

my Island cradles

the lonely, only seed

left here by hope.

I must remain.

I must provide.

I must prevail.