The island's rocky columns rise upward. Its gray and green was tiny, but now looms. A giant jutting rock that stands on high, and shades the white sand beach and coral sea. This island will be home from now 'til doom. One's gratitude for fists of sand first swells, but it will crash in time with tedium. Could a sea death beat solitary life? One lives and dies by coconut water -- day after day - week after week, and dreams of company and comfort food, while knowing this is hell and paradise. What prison is this island - place unknown - that like Schrödinger's box shrouds life & death?
Schrödinger’s Isle [Blank Verse Sonnet]