The boat sails, high waves surround it. While it floats the waves chuck the boat back and forth.
Sometimes, it lays high in the air. Sometimes, it threatens to sink.
It washes to the very east, the very west, the very south, or the very north.
The skipper clings to the grumpy wood; s/he does not know, can not predict, where the boat will be thrown next.
S/he can only bide and experience; can only be in the moment and try to handle this very moment as good, as diligent, and as true as s/he can.
But the skipper does not despair, does not complain; because, s/he thinks, what, if not freedom, is it? Is it, that brings turbulence?
To this moment:
The waves chuck will ever chuck; since, they cannot other than chucking, everything.
Though, the boat sails will ever sail; since, it cannot other than sailing, onward.
Finally, the skipper still clings will ever cling; since, what else than such can a skipper do?