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