Whose Journey is it?

Swinging the oar to the rush of wave,

A frantic left with all my might

To compensate a stroke to the right-

Mind fixated on staying afloat, and safe-

To keep the head of the kayak straight

Sweaty hands firmly on the paddle,

While my nerves play gamble,

Demanding the inordinate;

They agreed- I was determined-

My persistence would drive me ashore,

That I’d be part of the folklore;

They were all appreciative, very kind.

Did they recognize my sacrifice?

How I turned a blind eye to bordering cliffs,

Barely a careless glance at a colorful fish-

Rowing to their cheer, like a rolling dice.