Fog surrounds your mind,

blinds your eyes,

and takes all track of time.

It grows so dark—

even the sun—on its brightest day,

couldn't cast a single shadow.

Water drips...drips...drips

—and you don't know if it's fresh,

or mixed with the salt from your tears

as they

fall.

The longer you stay

the more the fog becomes you:

it seeps through your skin,

spews off your tongue,

and, before you know it,

the fog is...familiar.

It sits like an empty chair

of what is and what used to be,

and it has a way of weighing you

down. . .heavier—

as time goes on it becomes too much to

bare, and you go

nowhere:

you're stuck there.

The only way out is to move

—forward!

Never look back.

One, heavy foot after the other.

Slow is better than still.

Sense of direction—gone.

The rest—

distorted.

To think of this, though, will kill you,

or bring you back where you began.

Faith is the only answer.

He will guide you

in the form of your heart:

if you feel your heart beat

like thunder in a storm

—take a new path,

wait for the beat to calm,

like the trickle of a stream.

Follow it,

and each step will get lighter;

each breath will get easier;

and

soon you'll see the light.

Where you can start brand new.

And you can find

you.