Islands of Self

From the fire of a chaotic heart,
An iron mind was forged.
And from peach of the soul,
The iron was cooled.
Now as the gauntlet,
Has been tossed down.
The man has picked it up,
With the intention to carry it.
The solitude of self,
And the island of a body are worrisome,
And the weight of these thoughts
often prove cumbersome.
But I appeal to a sense of motive,
A sense of desire,
And with desire,
A destination is set.