Journey

Dealing with mental illness.

The sky bestows life's winter
Thick haze impedes the eyes
One cannot fight the slumber
To no avail could one disguise

Their feet drag madly through the mud
Of one's poor battered soul
They see no light, they hear no call
From those who hold the scroll

But lo! Is that a whisper?
A hint of something grand?
They lie in wait as hearts palpate
While toes crawl through the sand

The shore brings forth awakening
Providing ebb and flow
One must make haste, one must not waste
A lovely chance to go