Ground Fog

The uncertainty of it all is maddening. The stepping from a dense forest in which all was dark and heavy and walking into a long flowing plain with rolling hills and a thick morning fog coating the ground, hiding the lush grass underneath. To leave leave behind the dank, pine-ridden air and let lungs fill with the mist of life as difficult as every breath comes.

Walking ever so gingerly across the field, unsure of what lies beneath each step. The trusting of instincts to guide and the abandonment of all intellect and logic are the natural results. Lettting nature set the course and guide one's feet around any hidden obstacles, it's the only way to move ahead.

The walk changes to a jog and the jog into a run and soon the stride is great and the feet fall with supreme confidence and ease. With no need to look ahead, eyes turn skyward enjoying the early morning skies above and the colors that shine through the clouds. Arms open wide to embrace the air and memories of the forest and the fear the fog caused diminish quickly into the night of the soul. The joys of freedom and the ecstasy of the world around fills all the holes in the heart and the mind.

But soon the field ends, and the forest begins a new. To move forward toward home more trees must be crossed, more perils must be braved and the field must be left behind. But the feet turn around and just run the other way, back across the field for another jaunt, followed by another and another. Because this is home, where the heart is, where the happiness is.

Yes my friends, this is home.

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