If life be like a tempest,
Then set this monster free,
For if it were not for all his voodoo,
I’d still be locked inside a tree.
But if mine heart of magic,
Were to burst out onto thee,
Thous’t could not withstand the fury,
of this fearful raging sea.
Though thou doth look and hook just like a man,
Yet still a magician be;
I have seen you sail that rotten carcass boat
That bought you home to glee.
Then I dare you life be the man again,
Which your mother did bare and brand and name,
Stare into the eye of the storm, the blitz, the bang and flames;
I dare you again to be something more than Caliban,
Without a flick or tick of Prospero’s wand,
Dare you to dream of not sky, sea or land,
I beg you Sir to set Miranda free,
And let her come and live the dream with me!”