Krakatoa in the
firelight seems
much lower now.

This density disturbs me,
the weight of listlessness
perturbs me and I'm not able to
extinguish all these influences which
seem so English in their nature.

As Krakatoa sinks, something inside me slowly thinks about the ebb and flow, the come and go and wonder if it's all worthwhile.
In a while, I'll wait and see if Krakatoa's really me or just an allegory that romanced me as we danced by firelight in the sea.

Stood out on the peninsula, alone and cold,
behold this is my sinecure,
I reap the winds of that I'm sure
but Krakatoa still looks lower than it did
a week ago.