Through the fog we walk,
In the fog we live and barely leave a mark.
Lost souls are we all,
Stepping aimlessly through this invisible wall.
In the mist we shiver,
Shivering as crows settle on our shoulders like arrows in a quiver,
As if caught in the iron maiden locked in,
Powerless as our heart are burnin’.
Through the fog we run,
Hoping for a warm touch,
But contact is not made as death lurks around quite a lot,
Leading us to forget when we saw the last ray of sun.
We turn demented,
Amnesiacs us all with no clue why we are being tormented,
Brain damaged by our worst enemy,
Fooled every time to rush after when he says “Don’t fall behind! Follow me!”
Who is this trickster?
Who is this illusionist master?
Well… quite simple really:
He, or she, is me… you actually;
Our doubts keeping us tethered in its thrall
A jester anointed king by our fears and has made fools of us all.
Through the fog we walk and stumble,
Through this ceaseless misery that has us rolled in a bundle.
But there is a way out,
Easy to free yourself, no need for force, a scream or shout
Your guide is humility
Your walking stick and lifeline towards stability.
by Vlad-Ovidiu Adam
Image source: intao
