When the Fog Lifts

he fog of your doubt clouds my sight,

blurring the world around me,

heavy and thick, yet as fleeting

as air you can’t breathe.

The heart you guard so carefully aches to break out.

It yearns for the connection it once knew so well—

Like the well of unworthiness you pour into,

over and over, telling yourself you’re not enough,

that you’ll never be enough,

using someone else’s words as your knife,

digging the wound a little deeper.

At least then, you’ll feel something you can control.

The swell in your heart, like a tide,

threatening to knock you down with each wave of emotion,

making you feel as if you’ll drown,

as it keeps pushing you down—

like the feelings you want buried deep,

lost to the ocean floor, never to be seen again,

except by someone willing to dive into the unknown.

But by then, it will be lost to the sea once more.

Giving your love to the web—

the careful web you wove, fragile,

the tension pulling it taut, about to snap.

You caught something you weren't expecting,

and the web became heavy,

the weight of it all too much.

It’s like the weight that shifts every time you hear my name,

the echo of my laughter, lingering in your mind.

Does it feel worth it yet?

Has love been so cruel, that you’ve given up hope?

That the sun never shines in your direction,

that the moon is the only light you can see,

though you hide in its shadows, the shadows you’ve made—

the place where you're alone, yet safe.

But your tears fall silently,

your cries muffled in your hands.

All the unspoken words fill up each hand,

slipping through your fingers,

like leaves falling on a crisp autumn day.

Yet you believe they’ll be stomped on and swept away.

Acceptance feels like fear, wrapped in the weight of responsibility.

You believe it will pull you deeper into the dark,

but the light you seek is within reach.

The hope you hide will come to light.

It will show you the garden you left behind.

It will show you all the ground you covered,

all the hours you spent.

Your garden is simply unattended,

but it never relented.

It stays there, even if you walk away.

Throw your words out like seeds,

watch them grow—albeit slowly.

Like the warm breeze of hope,

pushing the fog of doubt away,

the sun was always there, only blocked by the mist.

So open your hands, your heart—

let the seeds fall where they may,

and know that, when the sun breaks through,

we'll be here, together in the light.