This island is small now, and diminishing.
When I first arrived, it seemed so vast.
No hint then of decrease, of vanishing.
But that was long ago, in the past.

The sea is black. A reservoir of teeth.
Menaces unknown circle there.
The calm surface mirrors the sky, but beneath
Roiled cruelty lurks within its lair.
Belief comes slow that this voracious ocean
Brought me here. That its anarchic deadliness
Could fabricate exquisite symmetry. The notion

Seems illogical, demented. Nevertheless 

The beach sands drift off with the tide.
Erosion eats the soil. Trees crash, float away.
Sleepless nights. With eyes wide
I hear waves lapping, lapping, til the break of day.

Years have been good. Once the place was lush.
Ripe fruits filled the forest trees.
Much beauty here from treetop to underbrush.
It was my bulwark against marauding seas.

Last night my seawall slumped, fell in.
A wind whipped wave climbed across the shore.
A water finger rolled across the floor, touched my skin
Then slipped back out the door.

Years ago I sensed how it would be.
I knew good times would have to have an end.
I feared recapture by the sea.
Some things mind can't comprehend.