| Part I 3,000 miles from anything and communication is failing. Fake rescue boats, people saying they will help, and yet I sink. Alone, sad, and submerged. Again, just another nameless island sinking into the abyss, the void. And no one notices... But who ever does? Part II I sink, further into the endless Abyss that surrounds me. Ropes plummet down trying to catch the jagged edges that form my exterior, but every one of them miss their target. As the island descends further, physical form takes no meaning, and breaks away leaving an egg. Such a delicate and tender form this is, with a flimsy shell and mixed insides. All the ropes now are nowhere close, some only scratching the sides of the smooth and slick surface. Further down I go. Part III A cord. A cord, silver and gold intertwined comes streaming down. With the utmost of care, it gently wraps itself around the exposed soul, the egg. It delicately slows down and stops the plummet. In this instant, time is no matter, warmth surrounds, warmth engulfs, utter bliss is achieved. Slowly, both start to rise; the shell weakens as more weight and sureness are put on the cord. Soon, intertwined, cord and egg, the egg shall show its entirety. Part IV A tug. A magnetic force pulls sharply on every molecule the egg has. Parts fall off of it and plummet down with neck breaking speed. He knows this feeling, this.. longing. He remembers the momentary relation of past occurrences, bittersweet. More pieces fall off as replays stir the inside of this soul, this now wretched piece of bits. But the cord just wraps more, stronger, warmer. No more pieces fall; they are held inside the small force field of silver and gold. Part V It strengthens, parts re-grow, though not all, and ascendance has halted in care. In this time, the shell opens and a golden liquid flows out. Warmth is redoubled, and now both cord and fluid benefit off each other. Pain is no more, suffering, deceased. Bliss is returned two-fold. But, a force impounds on the cord- cocoon. Powerful blow after blow, an area slowly falters, and corrodes. Liquid streams out, hardening at once into a rock-hard shell. Bitter cold flows around everything as it drops. Part VI The cord disintegrates, the now rock-hard egg falls and smashes into the icy bottom below. He again is lost, cold and alone. Just like before. But now he knows... just how good love can get, which makes it all the worse. Post-Script VII Lifeless, meaningless, the once thriving island now pieces of rock on the bottomless ground. The cord descends down carefully and tries to pick up a piece. But as connection is made, the rock shell grows. Larger, harder. Colder. The cord turns limp, and slowly ascends up in submission. |
| Sinking Island |