The Soil of an Island
when all is the same
who will be the piercing light?
the one who stands
alone
who bends and cuts
when others march?
others feel
the weight
of the the world
with bodies, pressed
the burden
is shared, but also
indistinguishable
I choose to be free
with my thoughts
with my dreams
with the way
I see the world
I watch them all
float by
on a sea
of sameness
they live
for the waves
the rolling weekends
I am an island
long gone from Pangaea
who still feels
the homeland in his soil
