Island gloaming

Island gloaming

In the evening I retreat to my cave. I am sheltered but can see to the
west. I've been here a year. I hope for lights on the horizon. As the
sun disappears I stoke my fire, and watch the sparks ascend. They live
briefly in the turbulent air. One day my ship will come.

At times I feel I have achieved self-mastery. I am comfortable with the
prospect of being marooned until I die. Mostly this is at dusk, when
the sunset colours make me sad and happy at the same time - melancholy,
saudade, resignation, peace. I sigh and poke the embers again. Life is
beautiful and hard for everyone. The glorious stars have witnessed its
brevity so many times. Who am I to complain? I did not perish in the
wreck. I shall leave my diary here, in the back of the cave. One day it
will be found.

At other times I panic.