Islands

Dear Lefant,
The voyage began with a swift flick of Devon's baton, the Orchestra played, and the gurgling of water hitting ship propeller completed the sonnet, and added it's own feel. This expedition, however long it takes should prove most effective. I have little writing paper at present, so I shall write you once I reach I reach shore.1

Congressionaly,
X2

Dear Lefant,
Yet still it is that I reach out to you with my pen in hopes that you will climb into it, combing through my words and dissecting them individually. I woke this morning to the breeze of ocean air. Grassy soil lay below me, and the ship that had carried me here was nowhere in sight. Frantically, I ran around. It appears that I am on some fashion of island. Grassy edges fall jaggedly into a salty depth, with absence of fish or any other marinal aquatic life. Around me in the horizon I see only six other islands, all similar in size and shape. The water is shallow and cold, and yet I take comfort in the fact that I shall not be arriving at my pre-subscribed destination. Familiarity is a sin as we all have seen again and again. I hope to be less a sinner than you dear Lefant, for in my travels I have seen only waste and destruction in it's wake.
The island that I reside on is bleak, a large island – 50 stretches long, and the winds have been heavy today. I seek the shelter of some variation of a cave, I only fear I will not find one in time. As I write, a great fixing of rain has begun to hatch upon this land, and I shall write more tomorrow.3

Cautiously,
X4

Dear Lefant,
Indeed it is queer, for this morning as I awoke to the sound of sea winds, a dark figure rose on an adjacent island. When I proceeded to the edge of my sweeping cliff however, the figure had vanished into what almost appears as a hole. The trees on the island remind me so terribly of our summers in Yall, our log cabin, which through my memory seems almost imaginary, if not transparent.
Does it seem at all fair to you dear Lefant that I am condemned to this island without tool in hand? From the very ship I came to this place on, I never possessed any tool that could give me the ability to cut or slice into wood, and at this moment that is precisely what I need: Wood. My plan is this: I shall this afternoon delengthen the mightiest tree on the beach, and I shall use it to construct a raft, with which I plan to set onwards to you dear Lefant. I must begin my preparations – After all, I have no tools, and must cut this tree with my own sheer might.5

Imposing grace,
X6

Exodus,
I flee my prison now, taking with me what I came. The shores of my island leave me feeling nothing but chill. My raft nears the outset of the islands, and abruptly sinks. I realize how shallow the water is. Using my strength and might, I push towards the island adjacent to the one at which I had been staying, and pulled myself onto it. Again, a dull grassy shore greets me silently. I remove my sopping metaphysical clothing, and walk the stretch of the shore. The height increases as I reach the end, and as I continue walking, I end where I began, putting my clothes back on. The figure from yesterday again appears, shadowed by darkness at the other end of the island. I begin to run, and the surroundings fade into darkness. I reach the beginning of the island again, and the man is gone.7

Sickly,
X8

A Dream,
My conscious mind dissolves into the waves, for last night I dreamed a dream of a boat, creaking and groaning as it passed through the islands, and as it reached the edge of the minds eye, it crashed. It sunk upon god's soil and burnt a bright flame. For days, the boat burned, and finally, after a week, a man stepped out, heart a'flame, and he told me that on the ninth day, my sins would be healed. The man dissolved into the ground, and I woke once again on my island, in my cave, in a cold sweat. Across the water, the shadowed man was again there. I blinked, and he was gone.9

To Be Continued.