Here on our island in the middle of the Sea,
My ninety-nine siblings and I live as kin.
We are raised together as a family
Taught only of love, and rarely of sin.
We all have one Father and no mother
But we know we were made from one.
He is the creator of this place and of us,
And we love him dearly for it.
Our home is a gorgeous and virgin place,
Our minds are free from outside influence.
We were once children of the human race
Today we exist out of providence.
It has been said that we children shall have
All that our humble hearts can desire.
Under His care, guidance, and protection,
We will avoid the fate our parents did not.
Prophecy is a powerful thing,
And even here it has spoken.
One bright day, Something will arrive
To stir up conflict and create disorder.
We are separated from the dangers of Zion
By an endless sea, which keeps us from our evil dreams.
But now, dark storms are building on the horizon;
I believe they are omens of impure schemes.
At the end of Harvest, some of us run around naked,
Others make love or play around in the sand.
It is ritual, which like the sun, maintains tradition.
The festivities culminate in the Mass Feast,
Where we gather and eat like a family.
But Metis and Tantalus, with their bold new philosophies,
Claim to re-discover the whole world each and every day.
The way they speak of how all this proceeds
And I am fearful something dreadful is on its way.
© 1999-2022 Eric P. Metze