Wisps of fog and mist drift upon the surface of a lake
Looking out. Looking back. Reflecting.
Translucent veil of meaning insulating me
but I wait
Now afraid of the clearing breeze which will reveal
the looming shape of Truth on the distant shore
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Sigh,
ReplyDeleteI was there just this late summer. Paddling through the thick fog. Surrounded by it's engulfing wetness, unsure of what direction to go. Holding to the truth of the compass, my reference, my rock. Never wavering always true though at times seemingly a fools bet to follow. but then safely on the shore, faith renewed, strength in creased, I press on.
I hope you're well dear. Sending you a hug and kiss to brace you for the winter chill.