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Description
It is glorious in its complex simplicity,
this island in the dreamscape. Its capacity
is more than any island that is outside
the dreamscape. There is nothing that can stand beside
its glorious self. The tenacity
of the average explorer is nothing to this island's instability,
making it impossible for it to be defined. Confide,
I will, this story to myself. With others around me, this will be an aside.

The gulls at night
Fly over a quiet island
The sun at morning
Gives light to the Farmer
Two stories in one
With carcasses
Littering the shore
When the tide goes away

The moons shine down brightly. There are four in all.
They are in perfect harmony. As perfect as man before the Fall.
The gulls are heard singing in the nightly choir. They hear
the song that the island sings. They do not fear
the siren like call
that it breathes. The gulls are nocturnal
and see what others wish could be seen. Notice the tear
one gull grieves. It wishes it could leave, though destiny makes it stay there.

The gulls at night
Fly over a quiet island
The sun at morning
Gives light to the Farmer
Two stories in one
With carcasses
Littering the shore
When the tide goes away

While on some nights the island is calm, there are also nights
when drunken beings fight on the island's sacred soil. Sights
that belong in taverns are brought under the moons' bright
beams. It was that kind of night,
when the dreamscape was calm, that all of those beings' plights
brought them to the island. When they came there were some kites
flying with the gulls. The beings got out of their ships to spite
the gods they believed in. They would soon know fright.

The gulls at night
Fly over a quiet island
The sun at morning
Gives light to the Farmer
Two stories in one
With carcasses
Littering the shore
When the tide goes away

As Earth's one moon affects the tides.
So the four moons affect the dreamscape. The night subsides
and some of the beings leave. But when the tide goes out
some of the beings are not fast enough to leave. Like a bout
of some grave illness, the tide ravages those left. There is nothing left besides
torn bodies. The mortal components of their minds
are the grey in the tide pools. If there is any doubt,
the gulls feasting could tell the truth. At this I do pout.

The gulls at night
Fly over a quiet island
The sun at morning
Gives light to the Farmer
Two stories in one
With carcasses
Littering the shore
When the tide goes away

The Farmer, hidden at night, goes out to collect the bodies. Their stink
reeks the air. She does not mind, she does not think
about what they were before. That is not her purpose. Love
does not meet the strength needed to collect the corpses. She gives some a shove
to see what she can get. Some meat is not tender. They will not fink
that they were going onto someone else's territory. There is now no link
left to the real world. Their bones and marrow are now not able to rove
the dreamscape or wakening world. They will now be her meal at her cove.

The gulls at night
Fly over a quiet island
The sun at morning
Gives light to the Farmer
Two stories in one
With carcasses
Littering the shore
When the tide goes away

After the bodies comes her farming. With no more grey
in the tide pools, it is easier to see the green. Now she will stay
at each tide pool until she is finished. The noon day sun
slashes at her back. This is her duty, she does not know fun.
She does her work quickly so the sun will not flay
her and leave her all crisp. In the month of May
the sun will be just as powerful as in December. But, until she is done,
she will not quit for the day. She sings as she works and does not think of a son.

The gulls at night
Fly over a quiet island
The sun at morning
Gives light to the Farmer
Two stories in one
With carcasses
Littering the shore
When the tide goes away

The sun sets and the moons rise. Before the night the Farmer
goes back into her cove. It is hidden inside the island. Father
and mother have no place here. It is bare of everything, but she
does not mind. It has been her home and the way can't be
other than what it is. The ocean breeze hurries the Farmer along. She will not bother
the phantoms that linger there. They accept her
like their own daughter. There is an eerie silence that one can see
even in the darkness. The Farmer goes to the main chamber. Can this place really be?

The gulls at night
Fly over a quiet island
The sun at morning
Gives light to the Farmer
Two stories in one
With carcasses
Littering the shore
When the tide goes away

No wind comes into her cove, her underground refuge from the world.
The silence is what makes the walls. At points the wall is curled
into many odd shapes. Some parts of the walls have items that adorn
them. On one is a large stuffed raven that looks forlorn.
But she does not mind its blank expression. It is her only friend. By it is furled
her mat. The mat provides her only bedding from the ground. Sleeping she is whirled
into the waking world. But she can never go where the waking walk. They mourn
as she talks to them. Her true self is in the dreamscape and from there it can't be torn.

The gulls at night
Fly over a quiet island
The sun at morning
Gives light to the Farmer
Two stories in one
With carcasses
Littering the shore
When the tide goes away

It is the night and dark clouds linger.
Then a clash of lightning and a shout of thunder.
Now the Farmer becomes a blacksmith. The best on
her island. Her forge growls loudly and wakes the beasts on her lawn,
which is the roof of her cove. She makes tools and her mind does wander
to what it would be like if she lived on the island no longer.
But that is merely idle thoughts. For the island will fawn
over her like a small child. Making her wish to never be gone.

The gulls at night
Fly over a quiet island
The sun at morning
Gives light to the Farmer
Two stories in one
With carcasses
Littering the shore
When the tide goes away

Days without number pass and then a survivor starts to gasp
his last breaths. The Farmer races to him and she he does grasp.
"Carissa…" He mutters as his eyelids flutter. "My name is Jack
and you have forgotten me. I do love you and tried to fix your lack
of care for the wakescape. The dreamscape is important but does sap
your waking self. I die for you to know the truth." A large gap
between the waking and dreaming world is opened when he dies. Now back
she wants that breath to go. The Farmer will go to the wakescape and will not slack.

The gulls at night
Fly over a quiet island
The sun at morning
Gives light to the Farmer
Two stories in one
With carcasses
Littering the shore
When the tide goes away

Weeks Carissa spends making her ship. Wait
she does for a calm night and then starts to leave. Late
it is and midnight comes. Slowly she does work her
last duties on the island. She is bitter
that she cannot stay. Maybe Jack was just bait
to lure her out of safety. Maybe that was the answer. She does hate
the truth and leaves. New adventures do await her and a bigger
destiny is there when her two halves connect. But now she will not hunger!

The gulls at night
Fly over a quiet island
The sun at morning
Gives light to the Farmer
Two stories in one
With carcasses
Littering the shore
When the tide goes away

I got lost in my dreams and I did land onto the island. I did last
for a few weeks on Carissa's leftover food. The raven told me the past
of the island and Carissa. I did take its words in and did remember
to tell someone else. Near the end I saw illusions that did not matter.
Maybe they were truths, but I did not care for them. I had to fast
until some more partiers came to the deserted island. I did cast
my lot with them and now am safe. The light of waking did not linger
and came quickly. I laughed as I knew I was alive! Things would get better!

The gulls at night
Fly over a deserted island
The sun at morning
No longer greats the Farmer
She has now left
To become whole

Description
It is glorious in its complex simplicity,
this island in the dreamscape. Its capacity
is more than any island that is outside
the dreamscape. There is nothing that can stand beside
its glorious self. The tenacity
of the average explorer is nothing to this island's instability,
making it impossible for it to be defined. Confide,
I will, this story to myself. With others around me, this will be an aside.

The gulls at night
Fly over a quiet island
The sun at morning
Gives light to the Farmer
Two stories in one
With carcasses
Littering the shore
When the tide goes away

The moons shine down brightly. There are four in all.
They are in perfect harmony. As perfect as man before the Fall.
The gulls are heard singing in the nightly choir. They hear
the song that the island sings. They do not fear
the siren like call
that it breathes. The gulls are nocturnal
and see what others wish could be seen. Notice the tear
one gull grieves. It wishes it could leave, though destiny makes it stay there.

The gulls at night
Fly over a quiet island
The sun at morning
Gives light to the Farmer
Two stories in one
With carcasses
Littering the shore
When the tide goes away

While on some nights the island is calm, there are also nights
when drunken beings fight on the island's sacred soil. Sights
that belong in taverns are brought under the moons' bright
beams. It was that kind of night,
when the dreamscape was calm, that all of those beings' plights
brought them to the island. When they came there were some kites
flying with the gulls. The beings got out of their ships to spite
the gods they believed in. They would soon know fright.

The gulls at night
Fly over a quiet island
The sun at morning
Gives light to the Farmer
Two stories in one
With carcasses
Littering the shore
When the tide goes away

As Earth's one moon affects the tides.
So the four moons affect the dreamscape. The night subsides
and some of the beings leave. But when the tide goes out
some of the beings are not fast enough to leave. Like a bout
of some grave illness, the tide ravages those left. There is nothing left besides
torn bodies. The mortal components of their minds
are the grey in the tide pools. If there is any doubt,
the gulls feasting could tell the truth. At this I do pout.

The gulls at night
Fly over a quiet island
The sun at morning
Gives light to the Farmer
Two stories in one
With carcasses
Littering the shore
When the tide goes away

The Farmer, hidden at night, goes out to collect the bodies. Their stink
reeks the air. She does not mind, she does not think
about what they were before. That is not her purpose. Love
does not meet the strength needed to collect the corpses. She gives some a shove
to see what she can get. Some meat is not tender. They will not fink
that they were going onto someone else's territory. There is now no link
left to the real world. Their bones and marrow are now not able to rove
the dreamscape or wakening world. They will now be her meal at her cove.

The gulls at night
Fly over a quiet island
The sun at morning
Gives light to the Farmer
Two stories in one
With carcasses
Littering the shore
When the tide goes away

After the bodies comes her farming. With no more grey
in the tide pools, it is easier to see the green. Now she will stay
at each tide pool until she is finished. The noon day sun
slashes at her back. This is her duty, she does not know fun.
She does her work quickly so the sun will not flay
her and leave her all crisp. In the month of May
the sun will be just as powerful as in December. But, until she is done,
she will not quit for the day. She sings as she works and does not think of a son.

The gulls at night
Fly over a quiet island
The sun at morning
Gives light to the Farmer
Two stories in one
With carcasses
Littering the shore
When the tide goes away

The sun sets and the moons rise. Before the night the Farmer
goes back into her cove. It is hidden inside the island. Father
and mother have no place here. It is bare of everything, but she
does not mind. It has been her home and the way can't be
other than what it is. The ocean breeze hurries the Farmer along. She will not bother
the phantoms that linger there. They accept her
like their own daughter. There is an eerie silence that one can see
even in the darkness. The Farmer goes to the main chamber. Can this place really be?

The gulls at night
Fly over a quiet island
The sun at morning
Gives light to the Farmer
Two stories in one
With carcasses
Littering the shore
When the tide goes away

No wind comes into her cove, her underground refuge from the world.
The silence is what makes the walls. At points the wall is curled
into many odd shapes. Some parts of the walls have items that adorn
them. On one is a large stuffed raven that looks forlorn.
But she does not mind its blank expression. It is her only friend. By it is furled
her mat. The mat provides her only bedding from the ground. Sleeping she is whirled
into the waking world. But she can never go where the waking walk. They mourn
as she talks to them. Her true self is in the dreamscape and from there it can't be torn.

The gulls at night
Fly over a quiet island
The sun at morning
Gives light to the Farmer
Two stories in one
With carcasses
Littering the shore
When the tide goes away

It is the night and dark clouds linger.
Then a clash of lightning and a shout of thunder.
Now the Farmer becomes a blacksmith. The best on
her island. Her forge growls loudly and wakes the beasts on her lawn,
which is the roof of her cove. She makes tools and her mind does wander
to what it would be like if she lived on the island no longer.
But that is merely idle thoughts. For the island will fawn
over her like a small child. Making her wish to never be gone.

The gulls at night
Fly over a quiet island
The sun at morning
Gives light to the Farmer
Two stories in one
With carcasses
Littering the shore
When the tide goes away

Days without number pass and then a survivor starts to gasp
his last breaths. The Farmer races to him and she he does grasp.
"Carissa…" He mutters as his eyelids flutter. "My name is Jack
and you have forgotten me. I do love you and tried to fix your lack
of care for the wakescape. The dreamscape is important but does sap
your waking self. I die for you to know the truth." A large gap
between the waking and dreaming world is opened when he dies. Now back
she wants that breath to go. The Farmer will go to the wakescape and will not slack.

The gulls at night
Fly over a quiet island
The sun at morning
Gives light to the Farmer
Two stories in one
With carcasses
Littering the shore
When the tide goes away

Weeks Carissa spends making her ship. Wait
she does for a calm night and then starts to leave. Late
it is and midnight comes. Slowly she does work her
last duties on the island. She is bitter
that she cannot stay. Maybe Jack was just bait
to lure her out of safety. Maybe that was the answer. She does hate
the truth and leaves. New adventures do await her and a bigger
destiny is there when her two halves connect. But now she will not hunger!

The gulls at night
Fly over a quiet island
The sun at morning
Gives light to the Farmer
Two stories in one
With carcasses
Littering the shore
When the tide goes away

I got lost in my dreams and I did land onto the island. I did last
for a few weeks on Carissa's leftover food. The raven told me the past
of the island and Carissa. I did take its words in and did remember
to tell someone else. Near the end I saw illusions that did not matter.
Maybe they were truths, but I did not care for them. I had to fast
until some more partiers came to the deserted island. I did cast
my lot with them and now am safe. The light of waking did not linger
and came quickly. I laughed as I knew I was alive! Things would get better!

The gulls at night
Fly over a deserted island
The sun at morning
No longer greats the Farmer
She has now left
To become whole