The only man in the island

And there goes the only man. Living in his little island, he explores himself. He tries hard not to be the same everyday, but everyday is just one more day at a time and it's hard not to be repetitive.
The only man in the island always tries to re-invent himself.
The only man in the island laughs of his own jokes. But he doesn't like crying alone.
The only man in the island tries to run away. But then he remembers he lives alone and there is nobody else in the island, for him to run away from. It's sad not to be able to leave. But that is the way the only man in the island lives.

The only man in the island counts the stars. And he can talk to the moon. His heart is big but his mind is small. But it doesn't matter. He is growing a new flower now. That is what matters every morning. To take care of her. But even that doesn't matter much. Nothing really matters much, he thinks. What really matters is how much love can his heart give. In that very moment and that is all.

The only man sometimes is the happiest man on the island. It is when the breeze of the night blows his hair. And the moon tells him the day was good. That everything is good. Then the only man in the island smiles and his heart sleeps.

Sometimes the only man smells coffee that the wind brings. And he cries. Sometimes he just cries. Sometimes it is just nothing, just because of the beauty that only he can see and he wished he could share it. Sometimes the only man in the island sees what no one else can. And he cries because it's beautiful.

The only man in the island prays to God every night to thank for the sea, right in front of him, and he prays for the sun to come out the next day. But rain is also good, because then he can take a shower using God's shower. And then he will be more than clean.

The only man in the island jumps and sings while walks on the beach talking to his friends. Nobody else can see them, only the man. He dances a waltz with the wind and the leaves the wind sometimes carries.
The stars tell him stories from far away.
The fishes he eats tell him about death and life.
His dead flower tells him about losses and love.
And he feels his whole body is just his heart.
Then he wants to melt and mix with the waves.
But the waves always bring him back.
Always.

To the same street. To the same neighbors. To the same.