The Islander

An old man by a seashore, At the end of day, Gazes the horizon, With seawinds in his face, Tempest-tossed island, Seasons all the same. Anchorage unpainted, And a ship without a name. Sea without a shore for the banished one unheard, He lightens the beacon light at the end of world, Showing the way lighting hope in their hearts, The ones on their travels homeward from afar. This is for long-forgotten, Light at the end of the world. Horizon crying, The tears he left behind long ago. The albatross is flying, Making him daydream. The time before he became, One of the world's unseen. Princess in the tower, Children in the fields. Life gave him it all: An island of the universe. Now his love's a memory, A ghost in the fog. He sets the sails one last time, Saying farewell to the world. Anchor to the water, Seabed far below. Grass still in his feet, And a smile beneath his brow. This is for long-forgotten, Light at the end of the world. Horizon crying, The tears he left behind long ago. So long ago... So long ago... This is for long-forgotten, Light at the end of the world. Horizon crying, The tears he left behind long ago. So long ago...