Friday, August 4, 2017


The holy island
Is a little slip of land
Soon likely drowned by rising

Waves nothing to do with it
Or the history
Briefly scraping over it.

The holy island
Is a figment of a land
Once under lifespans of ice
Then bobbing up green again,

Settled, farmed, and drowned again.
The holy island
Was made for contemplation
By gods never knowing land.

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