I wash up on the shore of Tomorrow Island,⁣⁣
Sun yet to rise⁣⁣
Can I skip the worst parts?⁣⁣
Could I? Should I?⁣⁣
Don’t want to live in should haves,⁣⁣
Just want to feel, I am.⁣⁣
Where do you think we go⁣⁣
when waves return to the ocean?⁣⁣
All the sand upon my hand⁣⁣
doesn’t slip when it has already rained here⁣⁣
⁣⁣
When life feels ⁣⁣
like your embrace⁣⁣
I know I’m here, I’m here.⁣⁣
Here, I am set free⁣⁣
from the weights of yesterday⁣⁣
listening to perfect days of nature⁣⁣
surrendering to no man of stature⁣⁣
Alive in the flow of language,⁣⁣
It feels like I arrive but⁣
I’m ahead of myself⁣⁣
⁣⁣
Have you ever felt like you⁣⁣
were in the middle of a sentence,⁣⁣
no power to ascend,⁣⁣
serving your sentence in⁣⁣
this prison of your own making,⁣⁣
when all decisions were made for you,⁣⁣
when all choices an illusion of freedom⁣⁣
Like you were a nuclear bomb in the ocean,⁣⁣
whose destruction caused no immediate harm,⁣⁣
but slowly festered over time⁣⁣
⁣⁣
I wash up on the shore of Yesterday island,⁣⁣
I often find you there, so loneliness leaves us alone⁣⁣
Here, each of my thoughts is blasphemy,⁣⁣
for the past doesn’t carry the burden of the future⁣⁣
its nature to pull you in with its invisible gravity⁣⁣
As all the sand on my hand grows heavier,⁣⁣
I sink to the bottom of the quicksand⁣⁣
No ocean in sight, no middle of the sky.⁣⁣
Here, thoughts of the future vanish,⁣⁣
senses slowly evaporate.⁣⁣
I surrender to the wisdom of the tides⁣⁣
wishing to wash up on the shore of another island

Art by Stephen Fabian