Fog of the Heart

When decisions of life must be made.

Wandering, all alone on this cloud,
wrapped up in a blanket, with night as my shroud.

The thinkers once sought to find the answers,
Great scientists try to find cures for cancer.

All alone on my storm scud...only wind in my ears,
Thinking thoughts of the night, dreaming up my worst fears.

The happy times that all seek to find,
Are more logically a separate state of mind.

And inside a weather worn cloak of gray
I storm and I brood. Oh what should I say?

No right and no wrong, a path has been taken
Too late now even if I'm mistaken

But all of a sudden, there's a break in the shroud.
Then it hits me, I think I know why. I prefer clouds.