The Word in the beginning existed in a void
With chaos, darkness, and a lot of problems.
And there were no decision-makers in the world
Who had ideas how to bring some order.

But then, because of romance, of maybe of despair,
As both true science and legends are telling us at times,
The land began to crumble, form fragments everywhere -
They sailed out to the ocean, transforming into isles.

The Word in the beginning was telling of despair,
The Earth went through the throes of her creation,
Huge chunks of land broke off and drifted everywhere,
Just to become new islands in formation.

And wandering the planet without a sailing permit,
For centuries and ages, for years and years on end,
The island changed its features - a vagabond, a hermit,
But it retained the nature and spirit of the land.

The Word in the beginning was by itself for miles.
By now, the Earth was occupied by sailors,
They quickly hurried up the gangways to the isles,
But called them vessels, doing them a favor.

The shoreline holds on tightly, maintaining its ambitions,
For islands have a duty to come back home again.
There’re governed by the customs, by maritime traditions,
The mainland’s laws and honor are kept on them by men.

Will science forgive conclusions, our own, for what they’re worth,
For taking liberties with views and notions?
But if at first there was indeed a word on Earth,
It was most certainly the word for ocean!

All decks were waxed and polished till shining smooth by hand,
The sailors’ souls and bodies embraced these decks with cheers.
The mooring ropes were severed, the ships abandoned land,
Transforming into islands for many months and years.