In Dwayne's isle, where waves kiss the sand,
A tale unfolds of a memory so grand.
A prisoner once, on Dwayne's cold embrace,
Lost in a storm, a geomagnetic race.
San Andreas quivered, skies painted gray,
As nature's wrath swept all away.
The prisoner's mind, a digital slate,
Erased by forces, a twist of fate.
No bars could hold what the storm erased,
Memories shattered, like glass displaced.
Databases crumbled, a virtual sea,
Wiping clean life's intricate decree.
In the tempest's dance, possessions fell,
Money, cars, homes bid farewell.
No shelter stood against the cosmic tide,
As fortune and fate in the storm did hide.
Silent whispers of lost connections,
Echoed through the island's desolate sections.
People bereaved, in a blank despair,
Stripped of all, a world laid bare.
No currency to cling, no roof to shield,
The island's spirit forever revealed.
In the aftermath of that magnetic plight,
Dwayne's prisoners found a common light.
For in the absence of possessions and wealth,
They discovered the essence of true self.
A canvas anew, a chance to restart,
An island reborn, with a shared, beating heart.
