As I wade through the fog.
At logger heads with myself.
Remembering the memories that I left on the shelf.
I am stricken with grief and confusion.
As the fog thickens and despair begins its intrusion.
Memories; I beg to be illusions.
Then like a glimmering candle
There are memories I can handle.
And I remember that the sweet just is not as sweet without the bitter.
The bright sunny blazing day not as light without the dark winter night.
So, this fog that can engulf me makes the days of clarity clear.
I steer myself from the fear of the fog, that enshrouds my happy days.
On happy memories I dine on sad ones I graze.
And through the fog and haze I seek that glimmering candle.
Until the light of day reaches me in some way.
Then from the fog I ascend
And remember the wisdom that the fog can lend.
For in despair, the broken parts of yourself you can repair.
Like a broken bone you mend stronger...
To go on and roam the earth longer.