Memories descend upon my head like rain,
and the fog and mist, they cloud my mind,
as I slowly go insane.
But I am not broken and ragged,
nor do I reflect the many things I feel.
I could chase the fog but never catch it,
or take the moment as it seems,
but never could I match it with a dream.
For this is the apparent reality,
as so it must be,
along with rivers of distortion
that melt into the sea.
And though the storm may travel
along the misty shores,
the mystery will unravel,
as we see the light that leads to open doors.