And many will mourn when I’m gone
Yet the sinking of a ship may make more than a ripple
But less than a wave when its done.
The ripples may reach the outer limits
the beaches of farthest shore
But after a while all is forgotten
memories of past no more.
I don’t want to be a floating seaweed
Wandering wondering kelp
keep to myself in my own little world
Passing by those who need help.
So I build other ships, repair the broken
So one day when my ship has sunk
You still see me sailing in hundreds of others
Wondering, “Who would’ve thunk?”