The reality of moving creeps over
Like a moorland mist
It promises a wonderful day at the end
But now fogs our vision and our thoughts
Planning is futile as the rescue party
Has other ideas, on time and importance
Each footstep feels heavy.
The light is dim and those guiding
Are studying a different map.
Destination certain but not the route
The days tick by and mist clears in places then comes down far worse than before
The energy travelling seems harder
As the hidden gateways have lost keys
To unpick is pointless and puzzling
If you're lucky your resolve pays off as the moorland's beauty is revealed on the horizon.
Suddenly your heart is lifted as the final mile is in sight. Then you twist your ankle and rest is required.
The journey amongst the cruel mist is challenging as the cold clammy fingers try to strangle you.
Reaching the end is filled with hurdles as the time is inflicted upon you. Carrying your load is hardest as the fine weather reverts to cloud and rain.
Shelter is at last with you but the stairway up is steep and winding.