It might be the sea,
It might be the moonlight
(But) my barque lists;
I can see nothing solid up ahead

But, I move with the flow:
I get tossed here, sometimes there.

But that's it, it's me:
I take the list, the moonlight and,
The uncertainty ahead.

This, comes to naught some times,
Mostly though, it ends with me
Walking on water; dreaming
Of other ways... Resting firmly
On solid ground.
That, is how it always ends.