Adrift.

by Paul Gustave Doré (1832 - 1883)
Title: The Rime of the Ancient Mariner(H. Pisan, engraver)
Plate 11: The Death-Fires Danced at Night

There's ship somewhere, without any wind in it's sails.
Give it a chance to escape this doldrum,
Any longer and no one will get home alive or without grief.

The need to get out of that place, an almost fanatical & devout urge for change and liberty. Marred sometimes by apathy and a disheartening sense of hopelessness alike.
But all that can be done is wait.
Waiting and yearning for a breeze of hope to grip onto.

In the words of Coleridge.

"All in a hot and copper sky,
The bloody Sun, at noon,
Right up above the mast did stand,
No bigger than the Moon.

Day after day, day after day,
We stuck, nor breath nor motion;
As idle as a painted ship
Upon a painted ocean."