My thoughts are coming undone,
slowly drifting into a fog of
forgetfulness, filled with confusion.
They are calling, I hear the echo
of their voices, but cannot clearly see
through the ever thickening haze.
Blindly seeking to find them
in a swirling mist of
reaching into the darkness,
hoping to bring them home.
Sometimes, a brilliant sun rises,
rays of clarity pierce the veil,
forcing the clouds and the shadows
to fade, I collect the ones I can,
trying to trap them in my heart
and penning them to a page.
I don’t want to lose them,
what happens when they’re gone?
How will I know who I am
and how will I know who I was?
If I forget, you’ll tell me if I will listen,
I promise I will try to listen.
Crystal R. Cook