No matter how far into the fog I walk, I'll never reach its edge. Eventually, it will lift and reveal what I had missed. It's never as I imagined.
But, it's true.
It's enchanting to traipse along a daydream, imposed into ignorance by natural forces. But when the veil lifts, and the illusion subsides the world grows. It expands, and reaches, and heaves, and sighs.
It isn't always beautiful, or poetic. Sometimes it has fallen out of love. Sometimes it's dying. Most times its wrongs won't be made right.
But take heart. Sometimes it's laughing. Sometimes it's raising a head to greet the morning sun. Sometimes it's having really great sex. Most times it's just out sight. With only a few more paces we may bang our knee against it, and curse our inelegance.
We belong to a species of primate, that is the first animal capable of piercing this fog and swelling it's boundary. But let's not say nature is without a sense of irony. We are also the first animal capable of collapsing it around us and clothing ourselves in it.
We are born into a losing struggle, surrounded by an endless cloud of the unknown, and uncertain. So, what response is there but to keep walking?
@ellophotography @ellowrites #KeepOnWalkin'