Were it still unclear whether the world were flat, I'd be the one to go in search of the edge.
There at the far end of imagination where dreams are formed my mind might be still.
Were the horizon a fixed point, I might eventually get where I'm trying to go.
But the world Alas! she is round and the horizon runs ever ahead of me; so I wait for darkness to pitch the world into slumber. And when the starry veil mingles with the waters' shimering surface, there there is no more evidence of this world's limitations.
Your life is your own, make of it what you will!