He is an island.

He is an island.

A castaway.

Drifting alone.

We all are.

Spending every day

Under the sun,

Gazing into the distance.

Searching the horizon

For tall ships.

We wait for low tide

To expose a causeway.

A link to another

Lonely outcrop,

Stretching out

To meet us.

Helping hands,

Hoping to form

An archipelago.

We light bonfires

On the beach.

Burn beacons

Of hope,

And build rafts

To carry lost souls

Over dangerous waters.

We fight against a tide,

Of restless expectation.

Strive to escape

Life long isolation,

End the separation,

And find a union.

Wherever the current

May take us,

In desperation,

To lose the Island status.