A Fisherman's Prayer

I feel I've been out fishing fifty years and just as leave would call it quits for now and throw the whole catch back for other men to cast their lines upon and dream their dreams. I searched across the waters far from home and tried to calculate what waits for me before the liquid future takes me in, the stream of life that sweeps me to the tomb. And I would pull my anchor for one wish and free the living and the dead alike if I could catch what hides behind a bend, what might well be as fishermen pretend.