A Common Man Worth His Salt

I clearly detect all that swirls this blue green world, and all that toss me about like a ship on the ocean. I hold the wheel within my hand, my ships Captain. Keeping fixed to a horizon, slow, and steady as I go, fighting off the pounding swells, one knot at a time. I fight the good fight for my home, my family, and prevision. The proletarian creed is an honest mans banner, and the only flag I fly. This voyage presents no security; nor the power of prevailing winds, to stretch out my sails. I endeavor this toil, and will not scourge my soul desire. I carefully weigh it all; willing to jettison all, keeping only one seed to root.