When the storm is over and you navigated through,
You mayn’t remember all that you went through:
The sleepless nights, the ghoulish visions,
The sweat-made beads from worry’s invasions.
Your crewmates who held forth with you,
Their solid faith even when you thought your cup was full.
And you may throw all these away.
And why not? Old memories have had their day.
But the tides of life aren’t done.
And some ills are ne’re undone.
So, if you must to something inflict an injury,
Beware the sacrilege of history.
