A Skiff Adrift

The emotion of confusion, alike to a drifting boat.

I live as skiff adrift in sifting mist,
And thoughts, like fog, blockade my battered bark.
I’m left to write, while right to left she shifts,
And blindly sails, a wanderer afloat.
Not telescope nor sextant proves its use,
And compass needle flickers forth and back,
My map all faded, I am left to muse,
Confused and lost, my mind surrounded, sacked.
This life drags on, though pointless may it be,
And wanders on, this bark, to nowhere bound.
In thought, to slowly rot, is Earth’s decree,
Unless in life there’s purpose to be found.
So latch unto this Earthly purpose one:
Be kind to others; then has life begun.