I'm walking through mist. Opaque clouds all around that absorb the colors of my clothing and captures the exhalations of thought. The brush lining the thin dirt path rise up meeting the fog that blankets the sparse forest with its thinning late autumn trees. Leaves fall slowly and without spin into the vapor that arrests their decent, claiming them as it does my concerns that feel so heavy, yet, float for a time then evaporate into the grey. There is little recognizable around me; little to recognize walking into uncertainty.
Feet move on their own, treading upon moist earth sprinkled with dew and spent leaves. Hands tucked into the pockets of a black field coat. Chin tucked slightly keeping the drizzle out of my eyes. I hear nothing except textured foot-stepping and the mist's soft static which disappears when listened for.
I walk onward; not forward. Memories caught up in the mist which surrounds every being in this place. How do I reclaim my memories from the mist? Can I reach out a grasping hand and take an invisible key from the ghost? I know I can't. So I continue to walk...and breathe.