My island is a destructive one

I wish to eat away at it’s demons,
I wish to make this island alive.

I want to destroy it;
make it beautiful again.

The palm trees will shiver in fear, in pleasure.
They won’t know what hit ‘em.
The quivering mountains will spout words through tears.
“Why am I changing?”

And I will stand at the peak of love,
and scream back at the land:

”You are becoming free!!”

The dangers will crumble away, the soil will melt into itself,
creating itself,
giving birth to itself,
once more.

It will crave for moments suspended in time,
to be


The Living Island.


And so it will become.