There's no ideal place
  nor steadfast comfort-zone
life is the ceaseless shifting ground
each move driven by one alone-

motions wax relentless
moments vex and moan
hope and despair oscillate
doubts invade and are over-grown-

the heart is a restless nomad
it has no locus for its seeds to be sown
drought and dust hover all around
by desert winds they are wildly blown-

I have shifted ground over such sterile years
what desolation and heart-ache I have known
lost am I in life's faraway wilderness
if only your love I could own.