I bob and weave/gasp for air

Choke on the waves of my own home-self.

Surfacing, I am adrift, again –

Singular, supine, searching.

The shore in sight but always foreign

No matter how many times I land.

Longing, leering, leaning –

Never touching what I reach for.

Though the waters are troubled

I know who I am in them.

To be a fish, no mind to muddy the picture,

Must be better than this compass-less life.

Prompted by The Daily Post Daily Word Prompt: adrift