Flavour country

Starving. Dehydrated. Hallusinations. I imagine I can still smell smoke from the last remains of my (former) island of innocense. I pull a splinter from the planks of my wooden raft. I place it between my sun-dried, sea-salted and cracked lips.  I light the prospective relief with the burning hot sun. I imagine pulling the smoke deep into my lungs. Salvation is only in my mind. However, isnt that where we are (all) responsible for creating the life we desire, anyway? In our minds?

Sure, of course.

Sure, The Island was the last free space known to man. It doesnt matter, now. It has been consumed by fire and become non-existant. Are you kidding me? Am I thankful to be on this raft? Of course, I am! But, to compare The Island to this raft is like salt on an amputation. This raft is not my salvation nor my freedom. However, The Island was complete and innocent. Free from fear and shame. Sure, we were all gonna die. It doesnt matter much now. Where is there to strike a match in the middle of the wide open ocean, anyway?

...Like a stone.

I dove. I floundered. Water forced into my lungs like concrete while oxygen shot out like a champagne cork. I choked. I gasped. Sheer panic. I knew better than to jump out towards the raft, now.Of course, I knew better than to get off the raft in the first place. But, you see... While I was on that rock, watching my only hope float away, a pelican with a beakful of sunflower seeds came apon me and shared its stash. Now, I have a pockeful of nurishment and by the hand of My God Almighty Himself, I am back on this flimsy raft. I cannot imagine any thing that could entice me to move from it, again.

Momentary Relief

Wide open ocean. A solitary rock. The peak of an under-water island. Relief. I pulled this flimzy raft, through waves, towards this oddity. Now, these threcherous waves have stolen my liferaft and I am all but stranded on this tiny rock in the middle of this wide open ocean. I either swim for it NOW or....

Further and Deeper

I wish I could swim back to dry land. The stormy waves are crashing hard and the water has become too deep, now. I would only sink like a stone full of  anxiety and regret. There is nothing to swim back to, anyway. I see fire on the horizion from where I launched my raft. The island I left behind is engulfed in flames and burning entirely, destined to turn to ashes and blow apart with the wind. I believe my escape was not a moment too soon.

Departure

The shoreline is further drifting out of reach. The rashens I stowed were meager, at best. But, they have become drenched and worthless. This open water is ....

Breath of Life

I have one left. After that...Im free. I may very well live forever.