La Isla

He was the kind of person who always drew others in. He was a loner and alone but had a spirit that was like a baby just born into a world of light and sound and cold. He was filled with childlike wonder and fear and love so much so that it appealed to people’s distant primal memory of something more simple or perhaps it was more soulish, perhaps it appealed to their soul’s knowing that there is something better, a better place, a better way, a better state. Whatever it was he was wholly unlike anyone. He was filled with love and passion and heart and this appealed and drew whoever came into that light but he was brutally alone. He was a child instinctive but with the IQ of a man, a captive beast confused and powerful but caged. He was dangerous. It was only a matter of time. It was inevitable. Nothing so foreign so alone so sad could exist forever without that moment. It was as sure as the sunrise. Every tick of the clock drew closer that moment and no one least of all him could imagine what would happen, but something needed to happen. There is balance in the expanse even if we are unaware, There is justice and balance, and nothing could be more harsh than just balance. 
Why couldn’t someone go with him to La Isla Bonita? Damn.