The Fog

The whispers in the wind are calling out my name Taking me to the place that I have always stayed The sorrow in the air is reaching for my throat The path in the distance becomes less visible As the fog begins to approach But I am used the to density of this territory No matter how far I walk I can never escape Now take my hand for I'll show you the darker side These carvings in the walls are what fill my mind When others portray this path filled with saturation All I see through my own eyes is white and grey A blank canvas with nothing on display I'll make my own palette and colour this path Each and every day But I am used to the density of this territory No matter how far I walk I can never escape Every time I take another path Everything seems different But I know that I'll end up at the start Now take my hand for I'll show you the darker side These carvings in the walls are what fill my mind As the opacity of the fog begins to decrease The path opens up and the fog is gone I am free