“At night the fog was thick and full of light, and sometimes voices.”
For times and times of multiplied times, I tip-toe through the water colored grays and whites of opinions fog, misty coverings over the truest paths. Stepping off my way, slipping on changing whims of irrelevant interventions, I draw blood, bleeding discouragement, marking my errant route. Sitting on rocks of stubborn pride, I bind the wounds of disillusionment. I sought a torch of brilliant revelation to guide me as the north star, with steady light, steady direction, and comfort in a sure way. What will I use as fuel for this flame that licks the mist from the air? My spirit, deeper than the mind, deeper than the soul, found in the stillness of my chamber, provides urns of truth that ignite my blaze of illumination. Confidently waving my baton of bright dancing tongues, plainly the path stands clear. Excuse my hasty advance past you idle players of hate and jealousy, I am committed to the summit of my life. See my flame high on this mountain, follow me you lost and wandering souls, we will climb above the clouds.