futilely paddling in this boat,
alone year after year,
i need someone to climb on in,
i need someone to steer.
cyclical has been my yearly path,
my destination unknown,
so many times I've merely drifted,
wherever the wind has blown.
at times i fear this boat will sink,
and drown me in the deep,
a place from whence i can't escape,
a place of eternal sleep.
as the waters froth about,
and as the storm rolls in,
i fear my boat has entered a battle,
it can not possibly win.
even though the storm is fierce,
i hold on to this thought,
the wind can easily toss me about,
but defeat me it can not.
someday the storm will surely pass,
and then the fog will clear,
in the distance ill see the one,
who's ready to help me steer.