Call me Ishmael and set my sails for
Parts unknown; I’m sick of stagnant ports.
The water, not the mainland, is my home;
A tall ship and a strong wind call my soul
To adventure, far from this madman’s shore.
I’ve no desire to scuttle Ahab’s whale
Before he scuttles me; I’ve holes enough
To sink my floundering soul. Hard truths are learned
When others take the wheel and plot your course;
More monsters roam the land than swim the sea,
And worst are those who roam betwixt the two.
I’ll joust no more with whales or vengeful men,
But rather seek a pleasant desert isle.