On circumstance

Perhaps the storm might flood your eyes and ears

and then the wind might knock you off your shoes

and waves, block with their salt your cogs and gears

and lightning strikes could split your mast in two.

Your men might all just fall into the ocean

their final rest, the bottom of the sea

the magazine catch fire, and the explosion,

teach burning chunks of hope how to fly free.

Perhaps it'd seem that God is out to get you

with only a piece of wood to call your own...

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Well then, become its rudder, helm and engine!

Get on it, sail that little plank back home.