I've never been out to sea, you see.
I've typically enjoyed my days indoors, watching trees or bees or sprees.
If you put me in the middle of the Indian or Pacific,
I'm sure that I would die, for no reason specific.
Can we take a moment to talk about the worries I have?
About the sea, about the waves, about the crabs?
The salt and the depth and the way the fish krept;
No longer so friendly while they aren't being kept
In a jar with no lid or vessel with a lip.
Yes, I'm sure that I'd like to stay where I am meant.
This watery surface is no place for an aunt.
My family will mourn me
My job will rehire
My pets will be lonely
My renter will set fire.
And yet, here I am, alone in the dark,
The water is murky, these matches won't spark.
Upon this here vessel, shivering cold,
I should start a fire,
A watery death for me is too bold.
Land Ho! I do yell; some sands and trees and weeds,
Up ahead is an island, or a city perhaps,
I can't see from my seat, I cannot manage to grasp
The gravity of the moment. Buildings; sky-scraping.
More buildings than plants, as if the plants are escaping.
As if the buildings are flying.
As if the water were diving.
As if the moment were falling.
For, just over this waterfall,
Civilization is calling.
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