Sounds from far away travel through the mists and
only sometimes can I see the pure world outside. I live for those
brief sweet glimpses of freedom and yet when they pass the
knowledge of another world only makes my bleak reality seem
grimmer and more hopeless than before. I see my life as a road
before me heading into the distance, disappearing into the
fog.
When I look forward nothing is clear and as I look
behind sometimes I too cannot see. The places where the mists
have crossed the path already trodden are forever lost in the
folds of memory. I know that I am close to my final destination,
it lies just beyond the bend. I will soon be able to see the
place where I will be transported back to the nascent fog. |
