In a great ocean, a small island takes its post.
Amid angry waves and feathered farers,
it stands against the dark, like a trusted servant.
It hides the secret long forgotten,
shelters the treasure long abandoned.
It beacons to the ship, that has already rotted.
The island sails alone, spurred by the wailing wind -
trees bend like twigs, sand dunes scatter
into an open, raging sea.
Lines in the sand spell out
prayers with salt water;
brushed by wind like ancient artifacts.
Words scorched in sand, dulled by the waves;
bewitched whispers float in the air,
inviting echoes from beneath the darkness of the ocean.
A secret island with the treasure long forgotten.
It waits upon the ship, whose sails have sunk
back to the coldness of the ocean.
Time comes to a close. The green
turns to grey, sand turns to dust.
All that lives, no longer …
The wind no longer fresh, full of stinging salt,
it burns against the rotting trunks,
tells the story of abandonment and loss.
Perhaps, it is time. The wait has come
to an end. The duty’s done, the treasure’s
safe, but those who buried it
sleep at the bottom of their ocean beds.
So the island shall itself
transport the treasure
into the cold darkness of this vast grave.
Aldas is a writer from Dublin, Ireland. He has spent the last few years dreaming of a successful and prolific career as a writer; so he earned a Masters in Creative Writing from Loughborough University. His work has been published in Terrene, Idle Ink and more. More at: https://aldaskruminis.wordpress.com/