I walked along the shore,
from the coal harbour to seapoint,
and the lands beyond:
Blackrock, Dollymount, Asphodel.
There I weighed a sufferance,
against the others there,
and found it, for all that it is,
comparable, equivalent.
I weighed my unmortal parts upon the winds,
North to Northeast, falling slowly,
held my frailties, and failings on the tide,
and presented a show of petty wrongdoings,
Some done, some undone,
some imagined into being.
I put mercy to sea, and waited
for the shipping forecast,
To tell me what I thought could be,
carry that far barque to regions far,
bring profit from those lands,
and make solvent my life.
An addendum might quote:
'Did I request thee maker, from my clay
to mould me man? Did I solicit thee
from darkness to promote me?'
To which my maker would reply,
No, but it's your effing problem now.