go through the shallows then out past the wreck
until you reach the point where water burns
you’ll know it clearly by the sharp returns
then note the ship the one with golden deck
and figurehead of angel with wry neck
you’d sign up on her as one does who yearns
for urgent journeys yet as each child learns
there are no funds left to support the cheque
still without vision no one would begin
a single enterprise and we’d remain
stuck in the mud unable to set sail
instead we face each whimsy with a grin
allow the facts of chance to come out plain
and turn our faces right into the gale