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 some peace
After a frigid trip endured.

Its verdant mountains slope down to meet blue ice
That's hard like stone and impassable
And immediately known to wandering 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.