Rare and stark is the isolated island
In its heart - its bipolar mood
And it stokes within the imagination
A fire - a want of pursuit.

Its knobby fingers reach out to a black sea -
Bringing roamers to some land's end;
Its fjords entice sojourners in for relief
After a frigid trip endured.

Its verdant mountains slope down to meet blue ice
That's stony and impassable
And recognized by itinerant eyes
As earth that's beautiful but cruel.

It's a place where fact and legends are as one
And lava flows like a river;
Where in an entire spreading rocky plain
There grows one radiant flower;

Where the sun perseveres along the skyline
Then is gone in a vapid cloud
And my nocturnal thoughts run and take flight -
Dancing within an aural shroud.