The view of a deserted island

I awoke with a start—
a dozen or so people were peering down
at me in a very curious way.
The last thing I recalled
was talking into my dictaphone,  
repeating my conversation with a shopkeeper.

As I lie there, slowly looking up
at an old man, I tried to ask
what happened ; but only a weeping,
stumbling cry escaped his mouth.

I wanted to recall the last words
I had spoken into the dicataphone;
but, all I remembered were words
spoken by the shopkeeper:
"...unadulterated by anything but silence and its directions".

I turned my head to the only person
who was not wearing such a solemn,
worried expression—
a young boy with a glowing twinkle
growing in his eyes, put a finger to his lips
and began to smile.