A Derelict
I am, I guess, a tattered soul.
A vagabond of sort.
A derelict adrift at sea.
No captain and no port.
Nowhere to go, no one to guide.
This frail and haggard bark,
Aimlessly drifts out to sea,
Piteously and stark.
No pilot here the helm to take.
No first mate to assist.
Into oblivion adrift,
Into a dark abyss.
Will there one day a solace be?
Will nepenthe be won?
Can a sweet respite be found
Before my setting sun?
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