Sand to glass.
Topaz and yellow blend, in fired isolation.          
   Can you see the beauty,or   only how much we are our island?

Floating... unseen in an ocean.                                                        
  ­                          Swimming... in the filth  of flotsum and jetsum, (which constantly surrounds us)
Sinking... into the detritus of lives staining this shoreline.            
Drifting... with each swelling high tide. Chosen by the moon.    
     Drowning... left bereft and barren by such far flung lows.              

                 Barefoot, I've walked amongst the driftwood you left laying; Collecting all
                        those pieces (bits you kept hidden), loves un-worshipped or love never given.

                                             -Kept safely now-                                            
in pockets of my salty flesh, being sweetly rewritten.

     Keep an eye to the sky, and an ear to the waves of you're known.

Perhaps, one day, you realise,
(when the stars shine bright within your sextant)

 - so I wait here,
                                                     by this water wide -                                                  
              with fingers and toes deep in our sand              
      
        Until the sirens' call reaches you again,
                                  and upon yonder watched crest you send a malia,                          
from a soon forgotten land of words.