Stranded

Stranded on an island, I could give a thought

But only one at a time. 

Pad and paper are what I sought

To retain the thoughts of moments behind. 

No single novel of adventure 

Could grant the same enjoyment 

As a pack of paper indentured 

With some transparent cement. 

If I'm ever free of this island

Publication awaits me. 

From the valleys of Ethiopia to the hills of Iceland

People will clamor for the story of the century. 

Ha! The concept is silly. 

More likely, I'm stranded on an island among others

Where seas of doubt surround me. 

The other side lurks and mutters

Filling mine with uncertainty. 

He is other;

Darkness, wound up tight

My thoughts are cluttered

He drags me into the night. 

Paper is focus, my shield

From one side, unhealed

Attacks that won't yield

Until the anger is sealed. 

Pen is my sword

My word

The burden it carries

Is deserved. 

That side I must slay.

If I can make a change,

If I'm really like clay,

Then I must rearrange.

Finally, there is order,

To my thoughts, my emotions, my words. 

The foundation's all set; all that's left to consider

Is the journey onward.