Fog

mist everywhere, it is difficult to tell when the line truly is and the whispers are all around, each one sounding like it might be from behind, to the right, left, center till the mind becomes dull from too much, over stimulation but the light is all about, sometimes getting clearer, other times it seemed more like a trick of the eye, the mind wanders to memories, to what could happen, a world of if's 1, 2, 3 the race does not come about, legs worn out from walking, calories depleted, a longing for rest that cannot come when vultures circulate on high, their cries are startling clear, it is a must. do or die. walk on even if it is in circles, a going back towards the past, a heading to some illusion they call it the sight, others say it is a fool's cause, the endless doubts, 1mm 2mm, the caricature becomes alive, engorged, massive 200km, 300km, the mind becomes dull when the present is riddled with part lies and part truths. does it matter?