Islands of Light
Such merry illusions we paint for ourselves -
pretending we've broken the crippling curse.
Family, friends, teeming masses surround us.
Our numbers increase, but our condition grows worse.
Words are mere tokens, eyes cannot tell,
the thoughts of your mind or the bent of your heart.
And you may cry, shout, or fiercely give yourself to me,
but despite what you do, we shall still be apart.
Your touches - smoke signals, your words - in a bottle,
sent from a lost beach to the ocean's embrace,
they come to me - though you're out of sight -
each of us doomed to ne'er see our love's face.
I speak of your soul; so sore do I wish
we could meld in our essence and find forbidden peace,
instead of burning like stars in the vastness of space,
seeing but glimmers of forms - there is no release.
I'm still bound to an existence I cannot share.
I'm still haunted by the dream of knowing more than I dare.
I'm still watching stars twinkle alone in the night.
I'm still marooned on this island of light.
Written 28 June 2020
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