Almost Lost. Almost Found

It is an odd kind of fog this morning,
one that grows stronger, thicker as time passes.
It is hard to find the landmarks that matter.
Even close up, they feel like strangers, soft and vague.
capable of misleading you.

But still, you walk. You trust your sense of direction
and the knowledge that you have been lost before
and always found your way.

About this poem

I am a planner by nature. It comes easy to me and is generally my preference. Butlife has a way of blowing plans up and inserting God’s plan instead. It generally takes me a while to catch up.

Or a poem about walking in the fog. Poetry is never about one thing.

Tom