Life is like a sailing ship
without the pirates playing dice
with your life, hypothetically,
awaiting their chance for real
over every horizon except
the one with land on it.
Better go back? No.
I am reliably informed
this ship don't sink.
So batten down the mizzen mast
if you've got one, and like, like,
like the cut of jib you cast forth
into the frothing churn of seas
that feels so good,
subjectively. Jut ahoy! Steer
fair by sextant and stars, cut
the waves at an angle,
split the difference
and who knows? Plow into some
friendly, unexpected port
smiling. "Good Luck Jack"
maybe they'll call you there
it helps
if you claim that's a name
of yours, matey
maybe
1 comment:
Originally "The Seafaring Ballad (of Matey Maybe and Land Ho)"
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