I think I know what life is for,
and yet I cannot live for that.
I'm forced to wear a different hat
when weather changes are extreme;
otherwise, I'd grow too poor
to realize a distant dream.

The dream is of a frozen sea
that suddenly begins to melt —
violent tremors soon are felt
by starving souls aboard a ship,
who gasp in wonder when they see
an island grow beneath the ship.

So while I'm freezing I must eat
and wear the hat that warms my head.
I must commit my days to bread
to keep my strength, my vision clear
upon the ground below my feet,
which may be far, or may be near.