Borne on the tides, tossed,
we land on foreign rocks,
cling, limpets powered by the fear
that we might slip and slide
when the next heavy wave breaks.
Across a chasm
there’s another land, clad in green,
where we might settle,
but the border’s dark and deep.
There's no guarantee
that if we relaxed our grip,
put faith in the sea,
the waves would take us there.
But we can’t stay here forever:
we must calculate and take the
risk.
Some of us might make it.
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