A very British poem. (I can’t deny the geography of my biography).
– Philip Larkin
In time you’ll hit that coastal shelf and look up long enough to notice
That the only thing you know for certain is how small your boat is,
That there’s no direction in the ocean where you float, unnoticed.
ps: I’ve gone for wonderfully awkward and cheerfully pessimistic with this one. Larkin would be impressed, or hate it, I’m sure.