Forty-three finds happiness in being
Open to the unreflective wind.
Reason would reduce the untrimmed sail,
Though love would run full speed ahead, and blind,
Yearning for what there's no hope of seeing.
The beauty of the run itself is freeing,
Having left safe harbor far behind.
Remember: One does not succeed or fail,
Ever losing what one wins in kind,
Ever granted grace without agreeing.