Sri Lanka is an island that everyone loves at some level inside

In the words of Romesh Gunesekera, “Sri Lanka is an island that everyone loves at some level inside themselves. A very special island that travellers, from Sinbad to Marco Polo, dreamed about. A place where the contours of the land itself forms a kind of sinewy poetry.” This utterance is not merely a description of a place on the map, but a hymn to memory, imagination, and the eternal longing of the human spirit for beauty. Here, the island of Sri Lanka is not presented as mere geography, but as myth made flesh, as poetry carved into stone and sea, as a dream that has traveled through centuries.

To speak of Sri Lanka in this way is to recall its ancient allure. For millennia, sailors and adventurers sought its shores, drawn by whispers of gems, spices, and wonders beyond the known world. From the tales of Sinbad, who sailed through storms to glimpse its treasures, to the journeys of Marco Polo, who proclaimed it one of the finest islands upon the earth, Sri Lanka has stood as a beacon of mystery and promise. In such stories, the island becomes more than soil and water—it becomes an image etched in the collective imagination of humanity.

But Gunesekera speaks of something deeper still: the poetry of the land itself. He reminds us that beauty is not only in monuments or riches, but in the very shape of the earth—the curving lines of mountains, the winding rivers, the palm-fringed coasts where the sea whispers against the sand. To see the land as “sinewy poetry” is to perceive the earth not as matter, but as art; not as resource, but as revelation. The land becomes a living poem, and the traveler, a reader of its verses.

History confirms this enchantment. The ancient kings of Lanka built stupas that still rise like mountains of devotion, their white domes gleaming under the sun. The rock fortress of Sigiriya, carved from stone, stands as both citadel and poem, a testament to ambition and imagination. Even in times of conflict and sorrow, the island’s natural beauty has stirred poets, painters, and seekers to marvel. Thus, the quote carries the weight of both history and myth, reminding us that Sri Lanka has always been a mirror for humanity’s longing for paradise.

The meaning of these words reaches beyond the island itself. Every person carries within them a “special island,” a place of dream and beauty that calls to their soul. For some, it is a physical homeland, for others, a place glimpsed in travel or imagined in longing. Gunesekera’s vision of Sri Lanka becomes a symbol of that universal truth: that we are drawn to beauty, to poetry, to places where the earth itself seems to speak. To recognize such a place is to recognize the sacred woven into the world.

The lesson for us is clear: do not pass through the world with blind eyes. Learn to see the poetry of the land, wherever you walk. Whether in distant islands or in the hills and rivers near your home, there are lines of beauty carved into the earth, waiting to be read. To see them is to awaken gratitude, to feel yourself part of something greater, to honor creation itself. Just as travelers once dreamed of Sri Lanka, so too may you dream of—and cherish—the landscapes that surround you.

Practically, this means pausing in your daily life to behold the world as art. Look at the curve of a tree branch as you would a verse. Watch the dance of light on water as you would a line of poetry. Travel, when you can, not merely to consume but to listen—to feel the land as a living poem, to honor its history and its people. For in such attentiveness, the world ceases to be ordinary; it becomes sacred, alive, radiant.

Thus, Gunesekera’s words remind us that Sri Lanka is not only an island of the seas, but also an island of the soul, a symbol of humanity’s eternal attraction to beauty and mystery. And the wisdom is this: the earth itself is a poem, written for those who have eyes to see and hearts to feel. Read it well, pass it on, and let it shape your spirit as surely as verse shapes the mind.