The Fog

A fog has formed

Thick

Grey

Suffocating

I cannot see the path ahead

Nor the ground beneath my feet

 

Voices call to me

Looking to guide me

But they are faint

Muffled by the fog

Distorted

I cannot tell the direction they come from

Whether they are ahead or behind

Or even if they are real

At times I wonder if they are just the echoes

Of my own cries

 

Meanwhile

The dim light that filters through

Is not of today’s sun

But one that has been seeping through the fog

Since better days

And happier times

And I fear

When these memories finally fade

Will another light shine

Or will I be consumed

By the darkness

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4 Comments

    1. Thank you. I think haunting was perhaps a theme I intended, though not so sure about lovely…
      Though of course, beauty shall forever be in the eyes of the beholder.

      Liked by 1 person

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