Castaways... Poem by Mark Heathcote

His island is a heart shaped rock
Waves pound upon it and beat.
"Here again", "you and I gawk".
Barefooted, paddling, our feet.

We walk out to meet His heart
Our gowns foaming white fan-out
We aren't the first flowers to impart:
Some-loves-firmament, forced-out.

From nothing, our waves return.
In one circling, other, dimension
Far beyond, any island tavern,
We're castaway's reef, plankton-

That cannot swim against a current.
Star Wanderers are we His blood
The body of rock that is cognizant
Bubbling life; out of unthinking mud.