I lie in the sand under the palm tree
Sand between the toes, crashing in the sea.
I count the stars, for the seventh time now
With the moon out, I nearly forget how

My meals come few, and far in between.
Could the fish be sparser, so it would seem
There's so much time between my feasts to think
Ocean surrounds, yet not a drop to drink.

I ponder at the moon and recognize
How its hue reveals the deceit and lies
You, my misty moon, I remember you
When I saw you last, in agony, too.

Those I held dearest left me here to rot
To wander about, within pain and thought
To fend for myself and survive alone
And march ahead in bracing the unknown

I lie in wait tearing my own nails
Wondering what first will come, death or sails?
Until then, I'll forsake those who left me.
And draw closer to the sun whilst I be.