Fog

You were in love last November,
When the cold rain thundered down on your roof.
A quiet soul you were, with your thoughts of certainty.
So why do you now sail on grief, alone and aloof.
This is not where you started nor where you will end
Or so you hope with no true way of knowing.
You have few constants to mark the voyage:
The waves greeting your oars, drumming a song on your hull.
The freed gull visits you every now and then, never stays long.
Then there's yourself, the most insufferable guest you have.
You have your demons and angels and you fight them all.
What are we to make of you, young boy of a man.
Is there iron enough in your bones to make this choice?
Or will it just bring you closer to the bottom below your boat.
What was better, your endless numbered days
Housing the sun that dances from horizon to horizon?
Or what about the deep dark nights,
When the ocean teems with life glowing in her depths?
Now we are in limbo.
You never did think it would be this heavy did you?
The only directions you recognize are up and down.
North, east, south, west; all lost to the great grey wall.
You know you can't stay anchored like this forever.
You must sail on, little one, you must stay the course.