I am alone on a raft

My ship sank

I am the only survivor

Very soon I will be alone

On a desert island

With resources aplenty

But I will still be alone

In my pocket I have a thin book

The Philosophy of Arthur Schopenhauer

It is quite soaked as I am but is readable

Just before the ship sank

The Head Steward a simple man

Shot himself as he wished not to suffocate in the sea

His existence was far less mysterious to him

Than it was to me so he killed himself with my gun

Even though I noted that we might survive

We were searching for gold but discovered

Many other things of a greater value

As I write this with a blunt pencil

They all sleep on the sea bed

And in time will be forgotten

Above me I can hear the sea birds

Their music is the melody

Whose text is the world

I feel that I must be a day from an island

Where I know that I shall be alone

My little book tells me

That a man can be himself

Only for as long as he is alone

If this man does not love solitude

Then he will not love freedom

For it is only when he is alone

That he is really free

In time I will find out if this is true