Queequeg's Coffin

I've always let life wash me on it's shores
Alone on the seas of fate
With out compass or cares
Never a course or need of a chart
Confident through the storms
The clouds would pass, the sun return
And I would be captain once again
Somehow able to right myself
And start a new voyage
Until the last tempest
That left me high and dry
Unable to get my bearings
No compass or chart to be had
Exhausted from fighting time and tide
Alone and clinging to my last hope
As if it were Queequeg's coffin
Praying for a fair wind or a friendly face
At least Ahab had his whale