Crave control.
Praise the steady ship.
There are no factors
Which elude my grip.

If the seas are wild,
And the winds too bold:
I dare not make
My sails unfold.
When all is mild –
No freeze, no scald –
Perhaps I’ll make
My vessel bold.

From rooted spot:
I spy many masts
Smash the rocks
In waters fast.
I smell the rot
Of ships from the past,
And pray to God
That my sails will last.

The drowning fools
Who lost their heads,
Now sleeping fools
In sandy beds!

And in the distance,
Through storm and hail,
The sun will welcome
A blissful sail.

This is the dream!
Though I shall never see,
For I shall wait, and wait,
For the calmest sea.

All these my head! I need to get them out!

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