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Every Man an Island

By Conostra (10/06/2022)

By ConostraPublished 3 years ago 2 min read
Every Man an Island
Photo by Shaun Coward on Unsplash

Every man is an island

Or so it is said

Every man has his castle, his sanctum,

And a man's queen is his castle,

Or so I have heard.

So perhaps, if all men are an island,

Then the world we are set to ruin

Is to meet its end of a purposeful accord.

For if every man is an island,

Or so it is said,

And each man has a different worth to his bed,

To the furnishings through his sanctum

And the worth of his castle, the queen that presides,

And yet they all are worth the same in the end,

What point would there be to preserve it

And what point would there be

To, of those resources, hoard?

What value is had if,

You cannot bring those riches with you?

Or so I have heard.

All the riches amassed,

The queen in the sanctum, different cuts of one and the same?

If at the end of it all, the castle will crumble

Perish along with you

Collapse into the sand of your island

And wash away in the tides of time?

On a small scale, perhaps,

Or so one can think,

Perhaps that is why a man leads his island to ruin.

Perhaps that is why he lets his castle collapse,

His queen wither,

His island sink beneath the foam of the sea?

Because he cannot handle the waves,

Ever-lapping,

Ever-sapping the strength from his rock into sand at the shore?

Perhaps,

If each man is an island,

And men control,

And each man lets his island waste away,

Or so one can say,

Perhaps, one may think,

Perhaps that is why the world is at the brink

It teeters on

And in that way

It shall always stay.

Perhaps,

If each man is an island,

And men control,

And the world is made of the isles of man,

Perhaps that is the drive for which all men shall strive

Let the flooding take over, wash weight off their shoulders,

The crowns off their heads,

And take everyone to the bottom of the sea?

For as one can claim,

If each man is an island,

And the isles of man make the world as we see,

And if none are yet left at the surface of sea,

Then that washes them clean of their sin

Til the old world's collapse, as the new isles begin.

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About the Creator

Conostra

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