In the sea of life we rock back and forth,

Till out boat stops floating upright.

When our boat no longer floats,

And when we have lost all of our hope,

Is when we become vertical part of the land.

The water reflects light even though with,

all our might the years come sailing right in.

I remember a time when I cut all the lines,

As my time is ending and the port is showing,

Upon the horizon again.

A many knots have passed and the waves,

No longer crash as my boat starts slowing,

From within.

I remember a time when the water was not brine,

The salt of the sea flowed though me as friend.

Many waters I have flowed even ones that,

I know I will never likely see again.

As I cast out my last line and search,

The moon one last time,

The water reaches out her sweet salty hand.

Will I stay a float or have I lost my hope,

As the boat rocks uncontrollable again.

Inkmaster