Docked in the Desert

My ship is banked

In a desert land

My rudder and stern

Both filled up with sand.

My sails are depleted and drooping and worn

My soul's more than restless-

Without outrigging or compass or the sea-

And my lungs are sucked breathless.

I try to find joy

In this place where I'm stuck

But there's not much to be found

I'm far out of luck.

Tell me do you know

Of a good boat repair man?

He doesn't have to be clever

Just lend me a hand.

Tell me have you heard

Of an unexamined shore?

It doesn't have to be wealthy

Just be room to explore.

Tell me have you heard

Of anything at all?

Anything to save me from this

For without saving, my soul will perish.