I lie in the sand under the palm tree Sand between the toes, washing 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.