Every island is a man

The crushing wail of a desolate
wind cycle stuck on an uninhabited island
the rushing tide struggling
to swallow the lone piece of land
The island lies in peace
Unperturbed and still

No man is an island
But perhaps every island is a man
Forever rooted in its cradle
waiting for an unknown existence
To come and build houses out of uneven stones
until life separates the blood from the bones

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I wrote this poem last year in the month of July. And, somehow looking at my past writings, I have this soul crushing feeling of alienation. It isn’t about which is better or worse..moreover it isn’t in any way a comparative analysis. It’s the connection that feels lacking, which makes me as happy as distressed. It also parallels with the sense of losing something you hold dear. When it is out of reach, you want it back at any cost. And, if it’s never found, you either get a new one or learn to lose interest, more like self deception. 

Have you ever felt the same? I’d love to know your perspective! =)