A Derelict

I am, I guess, a tattered soul.
A vagabond of sort.
A derelict adrift at sea
No captain and no port.

Nowhere to go, no one to guide.
This frail and haggard bark
Aimlessly drifts out to sea
Piteously and stark.

No pilot here the helm to take
No first mate to assist.
Into oblivion adrift,
Into a dark abyss.

Will there one day a solace be?
Will nepenthe be won?
Can a sweet respite be found
Before my setting sun?