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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