The world is on my shoulders with nothing beneath my feet.
We move together and within each other, and we lie in an eternal fall.
As we wander through the fog she lies on the other side. She is here, there, everywhere.
She falls the same as we do, just from a different place.
If we ever meet, it will not be me as I rise, but her, as she falls.

Though I never know why I am in the fog, it is not being there that has me lost.
It is from where I came, to where I could possibly go.
I have been running from the fog all of my life, only to see that it is the fog that runs in my sight, running from me. It surrounds me, because it trusts me. We share a connection like no other, but this you will never see. This, I can bear no longer. And yet, this, will be protected with my life.

No emotion captures what I feel . Nothing works, nothing lives, nothing dies, nothing is.
All that occurs is the fall of the world on my shoulders, forcing me into the fog before it can Depart, perpetually. I am the stranger to the fog, but not for long.

I am the stranger to the fog, but not for long.