The fog surrounds me, thick and cold,
A shroud of silence, vast and old.
Its grip seeps deep, a bitter chill,
Yet deeper still, my doubts lie still.
It shifts and stirs with restless breath,
Whisper fears, unspoken depth.
Each shadow twists, its form unclear,
Yet somehow each feels too near.
Sounds echo softly, disarrayed,
A step that comes yet does not fade.
And in the mist, I see the truth:
This fog is drawn from my roots.
It is not the world that clouds my view,
But fears and scars I never knew.
These shadows rise, but now I see,
They are fragments, reflections of me.
With each new step, a shadow bends,
No longer foe, but quiet friend.
I face myself, and light begins,
To break the fog that lies within.
I walk through mists, now less opaque,
The air grows lighter as shadows break.
Emerging change, I come to find,
The fog was always in my mind.
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Author:
The Inner Lens (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: March 19th, 2025 18:41
- Comment from author about the poem: The Fog that caused me the most problems, I found residing within my own mind.
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 16
- Users favorite of this poem: Poetic Dan
Offline)
Comments4
A poem full of beautiful images and a play on words used at the end to describe confusion nicely said
I really needed this! Thank you for sharing and such a wonderful flow.
Keep up the write
Much peace and respect
Has a really nice flow to the read and lovely imagery, well written and expressed
Love it
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