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Rare and Stark is the Isolated Island

Rare and stark is the isolated island
   In its heart - its bipolar mood
And it stokes within the imagination
   A fire - a want of pursuit.

Its knobby fingers reach out to a black sea -
   Bringing roamers to some land's end;
Its fjords entice sojourners in for relief
   After a frigid trip endured.

Its verdant mountains slope down to meet blue ice
   That's stony and impassable
And recognized by itinerant eyes
   As earth that's beautiful but cruel.

It's a place where fact and legends are as one
   And lava flows like a river;
Where in an entire spreading rocky plain
   There grows one radiant flower;

Where the sun perseveres along the skyline
   Then is gone in a vapid cloud
And my nocturnal thoughts run and take flight -
   Dancing within an aural shroud.

Copyright © Amy Michelle Mosier

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