A Tiny Island

The world is known by many a name, to each a different beast, as we struggle though this cosmic mess, longing for some peace.

We try to get by, to live and thrive but the cold truth rears its head, like unsuspecting daffodils that survive until they're dead.

That tiny island we can stand on, stretch upon with pride, enough to house just what we need and what we hold inside.

We used to walk along the beach, and play the days away, before we travelled out to the deep, where monsters have their say.

You thought your ship was what you'd need, with map in hand and all, but you blinked your eyes and checked the time and don't remember the fall.

We die to keep from drowning under, gasping at the waves, with beating heart and pounding hands we fight the fight each day.

For every floating daffodil, every moment hurts, the sea is cold and unforgivingly painful at its worst.

But you found a beach to crawl onto, it's not much but some sand, still... you breath at last.

The motion won't stop on its own, and the water never sleeps, but your soul takes a desperate nap, and your heart it slows its beat.

All those threats have lost their chance to ruin your life today, for here you're king, and safe and warm and free to dream away.

Here you can see the stars at last and tend to little things, rest your back, heal your wounds and forgive the world it’s sins.

Till the morning comes again and with it comes the tide, to sweep you out from comfy sheets, to battle a day at a time.

Lucky is the resting soul, for it has found its home, its island in this cosmic mess where it needn't be alone.