The Fog

I feel it lifting. 

A gentle shift.

Exposing how far I have become adrift

From my core.

I'm sensing a fresh space.

To create again.

To reach.

To be.

To be me.

To love.

To love me.

And the warmth flushes through my torso,

And I let go.

I let it go.

Ahhhh...

I release all my past tense.

This shift is a gift.

It drifts, and I give thanks.

The fog lifts, and I let it.

This time.

S. Camplin