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Dweller on Charlottle Island
Dweller had left the daily hum and drum behind,
and set himself adrift on monumental tides.
His journey was a deadly one
that flung him on to shores.
He tasted sand and bits of shell,
and knew he had found a home.
Charlottle Island he did name this vast and new expanse.
He walked along its furthest rims and knew he was the last
of any form of mindful being
that had dwelt along these coasts,
making him Charlottle's king
and leaving him to rule alone.
Upon a day of harnessing the island's baltic wastes,
he found a dryness on his tongue and thirst he could not slake.
He set his weathered boot to ground
and stalked beneath the trees,
with eyes afixed towards the skies
and hands against the breeze.
He sang a sweet and mild tune that he'd forgotten 'til just now,
lost in all the beauty of Charlottle cast abound.
Just then Dweller saw a fix:
a single ripened coconut,
hanging rapt on highest branch
and begging for indulgent lust.
Dweller wrapped his legs about the trunk of holding tree,
only to exhaust himself whilst climbing up to reach.
He tumbled backwards, hit the earth,
and scratched at shaggy skull.
He pondered there and thought aloud
until his head grew full.
Later came and Dweller thought to bring all that he owned
and stack them all atop the other until he'd bit his goal.
But every thing brought from the isle
was not enough to rival she,
the Charlottle grace and tallest palm
that held at bay his needs.
Dweller sat beneath the shade of his prize above all prizes,
sick by dust that sank between his teeth and both his eyelids.
He looked around and took it in,
the pretty place he'd stumbled on.
He thought a while and came to grips
with the bounty he had called upon.
He leaned against the blasted trunk and bonked his head on wood;
smiling despite himself, resting while he could.
Maybe he'd just do without
the lovely, milkened sphere.
He had so much that blessed him here,
and so little that interfered.
Dweller stood and shook the tree, sighing with a grin.
He took his leave and reveled in the burning that was his.
Horizons leapt and then sank down,
with dimming light to guide him home.
Dweller then made bed for night
and laid awake before he dozed.
A fullest moon did pour upon Charlottle's fragrant slopes,
bringing with it churning air and a pale-blue sort of glow.
And evening late as Dweller dreamt,
the winds did bring their fury,
and his coconut then fell from perch,
where beneath the sand it buried.
