my full and true semantic
can only be illuminated by the lonely moon

can only be complimented by the lowest doom

because the spirit that has been yearning inside me
is one for the ages.

yes. hallelujah--i am one of the greatest.

i can feel my love coming like far-off tremors
snaking ever closer underground

now, i am obscured and insular.

the strange natives who live here are glow, alive with
the fame and fortune that comes with each rising sun

they take up rituals
they have ways that put the West to shame.

but these men are forged in faith
carving totems after each mistake
and the island will blossom into a precious flower.

this i can offer to the world.
but the nutrient of the soil
the story of the water that feeds the stem, and each petal
the warring tribes, and their gods and times

well, only shards of history remain.

but the world will remember a flower,
for a time
and the way it looked in the moonlight
though perhaps it was happier to see it there
in the sun.