I may not be able to climb a mountain,

if I could I would have given Chomolungma

my best shot, frost bitten toes and missing

nose perhaps worth the price

of seeing the world in peace,

I wouldn’t have minded sailing the Atlantic,

lonely solitude a gift that keeps giving,

the endless days and sleepless nights, no

different to what my life entails now,

just the dark of the Ocean

calling out, each wave hitting

the side of the boat like an S.O.S. message,

join us, join us and swim under the pressure;