How the World Should Work

This ship keeps drifting, south, now west

Dealing with what’s on my chest

Something stop the chaos please

I ask one thing: stability

I brace myself, a wave rolls by

Crashing into my ship’s side

I stumble, try to catch myself

But all I finds a broken shelf

Soaking wet, I’m laying here

Tears of salt, and yesteryear

As I stand up I hear a roll

Gazing down, I see a scroll

I grasp and see it holds within

A well of ink and this quill pen

I notice that latched on ship’s side

A rope of calm, for any tide

Knowing what I’m meant to do

I tie the scroll, cast into blue

I hold the pen, this well of ink

It’s peace I feel, yes peace I think

A feeling that’s so new to me

Capsizing ship that’s fine’ly free

I smile, breathe, gaze up, thank her

For this beloved gift; my anchor