3.

remember when we were lions?
moving slowly through sand on a sun-burned morning,
feet caught in a thousand years of turning tides.

The boats that race into the harbor find themselves instead on top of mountains,
crying to come down and join the rest, far away from home, and danger.
we watch them sitting in the bottom of the sky.

You want advice?
Have faith in the Yankees, my son; do not fear the Indians of Cleveland.
A man can be destroyed, never defeated.