Here love erupts from a blue void,
resolved to form its own island.
Locals sing of island love, words and harmonies
dying in the winds, which makes them laugh.
Love on a tropical island takes root
in a day and thrives like madness.
It can wither in a week.
Island love shifts slow as a sandy beach
because here there is no time.
When love wounds us, the saltwater cleanses,
and tides offer up new love.
There is only one love for each person on an island,
and those who find it are lucky.
Love can drift for thousands of miles,
take root and grow in coral rubble.
Some days, island love needs to rest in the shade and do nothing.
Island love is nocturnal. It steps out boldly
when hens stop clucking and roosters stop crowing.
On an island everyone knows who you will love before you do.
And they know who you should never love.
No matter how happy you are, outer islands
on the horizon promise infinite love and loneliness.
