This Island of Illusion

I look out at the ocean,
I grew up beside these waves,
The blue-white foam, the crashing water,
It surrounds this island of illusion.

I turn around and see the forest,
I grew up on this tiny little island,
Just dark trees, winding their way from shore to shore, darkness, loneliness.
There is naught but forest on this island.

I feel the wind on my face and close my eyes,
I grew up walking against the wind,
It whips my hair behind my head, flyaway curls, careless locks,
I want not to open my eyes, but I must see my island.

I look back out at my tiny little island, covered in sand, and sand alone,
I grew up on this tiny little island,
Just red hot sand, blowing not, for there is no wind, never wind here,
There is only sand from one water's edge to the other.

My tiny little island can be whatever I wish,
Covered in the dust of imagination,
As I sit in my city apartment, I close my eyes
and travel to the tiny little island of illusion on which I grew up,
which can be whatever I wish it to be.