I can see all that is, and what was.

I run and jump and laugh and cry, because I am here now; because I was here then.

Yet, when I take my step, I am blind; There is a fog that mysteriously flows in, out, and around my very force.

I cannot step relying upon my logic; Faith and hope is what guides my way.

Thus, I often travel to the mirrored waters that reveal my past, and I see a face that shows too much pain and sorrow; a face that knows too much, one which feels for all.

Why? why am I plagued with this subsequent cloud? Why can't I see what is due, what is near?

At times I stumble over things that cause me to fail; Should I run through it? or walk to find my way? or crawl to be safe?

No, I will walk; But, I alone cannot find my way.

Thine forthcoming is grey and cloudy and bleak.

Help me to find, to step, and to know that which I seek.

Am I too complex? Why do I live in the deep corners of the mind?

I understand that which is pushed away; I learn what is untaught, what is lesser known.

Where do I fit in this world?

I fit nowhere, I am the anomaly among a system of ones and zeros.

I am the only streak that is against the grain.

I am that which is admired, but never loved.

I am that which is taken, but never given.

I am nothing that I see.

I am everything that no one knows.

I am the only one from which comes and goes.