right into the gale

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