The People of The Island

When I woke up today,

my head was full

of strange pictures

and my heart yearned

for deep, forbidden spaces,

long since forgotten

by mankind.

 

When my feet

first touched the ground,

the bedside reminded me

of fine, polygonal sand,

that stretched out in long ribbons

of violet/grey beaches

on the shore

of some black, alien sea.

 

The only source of light,

a billion stars

and the reflection of

that foreign starlight

from giant, twin moons,

high above me.

 

A wind stirred the air,

filled with exotic fragrances

and behind me,

in the stygian black

that was the forest

that encircled a high, volcanic peak,

silhouetted imposingly

against the alien sky;

I could hear the chanting

of the tribes of the black wood.

 

Drums in the darkness,

calling for my blood.

Calling for sacrifice,

for they knew I had returned.

 

They are the people of the island

and they are tuned

to every grain of sand

and blade of grass.

 

I don’t know why I have returned

to the violet/grey beaches

that ring this island

in some unknown sea,

but when I wake

I am left feeling lost,

forlorn and alone.

Perhaps when I inevitably return,

the people of the island

can provide some explanation;

that is, if I survive…

 

HG – 2016

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