the sixth day

Six days on a deserted atoll,
somewhere in the South Pacific
and you
forget
whatever it was,
that was,
before.

If I am
anything anymore,
it is only this, sapphire-blue night,
watching our children dancing around a bonfire, under a full moon,
on the bleached bones of a coral beach.

The God-sound roars at us,
from a thousand untamed leagues of ocean outside the lagoon,
but here in our magic-ring of solitude,
we sleep like babies in gossamer webs.
Stars reflect off our pillows.

It occurs,
that tomorrow, we will need to seek fresh water.
Necessity is the compass needle of the idle sailor
(whose water-maker is not working).
Tales of a cistern in the abandoned village,
is the only reason to go anywhere.

Here,
is the prize for
sailing through those dark nights.
Today, the answer,
to all the endless questions,
I love you
is all it took to get the ball rolling in the first place.