the arid plain behind me

Today the briefest of quotations - the lines from the final part of 'The Wasteland' where the poetic voice speaks in the persona of the wounded king:

I sat upon the shore
Fishing, with the arid plain behind me
Shall I at least set my lands in order?

A good question to ask while the float is on the water. In the midst of the wasteland, can each of us find some trace of order? Is that at least attainable? Is that all we can hope for?