My Way Back

I'm making my way back
To where, I haven't always been sure
And at times, I had no clue
But now I know, and I will die,
Seeing it through. 

There was a day that I launched out
On my journey through life.
Whatever direction, it didn't much matter
For I was on my way.
But "way to where?" I paused not to consider.
As long as it was my way, and
Not the way of another. 

But self-determinism only induced self-doubt,
And my search for self-actualization became
a stagnant slough of self-immobilization.
In my pursuit, I reluctantly discovered my need.
I needed a friend. I needed a guide.
For I found that I could not steer this ship,
And against these relentless tides of life
I could no longer row. 

So when I had finally, in prodigal indulgence,
And in willful defiance,
spent the sum of my resources,
My strength, my wealth, my self,
Like the drunken pilot of a freighter run aground
I stepped off the helm
And invited my Captain aboard. 

Now since that day these vast uncharted waters of life
Have become increasingly familiar.
I do not know every waypoint,
But I know whether I am on course.
And though I cannot yet clearly see my destination,
I know that at the end of my voyage
I shall arrive. 

I'm making my way back
To where, I haven't always been sure
And at times I had no clue
But now I know, and I will die
Seeing it through. 

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