On islands

Standing on sand
in awe of an ocean
Man inhales land
exhales commotion
Filled sails disappear from view
In the wake of the snail
they have sailed without you

Handle from forest
lashed to head from the hills
Man manufactures axe
to render forest a field
Sole soul once stood alone on a beach
Now laughs aboard the craft
that casts his stones within reach

Once-wretched man
on deck now stands; a new course is set
Wreckage of the treacherous ship
lays deep, dark and wet
Penultimate penninsula
waits just beyond curve
T’wards brilliant blue horizon
man sails his earth

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