First: a fact. You have no home on land.
You traded it for rooftops in the wind.
That too, you left, to seek a second chance
where maps are treacherous and tales begin.
Now in your third-hand coat, frostbitten, free,
you’ve seen the Mountain’s light and Storm untamed.
Four things have kept you from the drowning zee:
a ship is steam, is steel, a heart, a name.
Is safety, too, far past Fifth City lights,
where life is measured out in fuel burned.
Six times you’ve ventured out into the night.
Six times you’ve seen your death, six times returned.
Your seventh now. Your last, and all you’ll keep
is glimmering of false stars in the deep.