Fog

As time goes on,
the walls come down;
exposed, our
true colors, are
revealed or found.

Our mettle, though
seeming settled, is
tested, and more, if
up to snuff, enough, with
our shaken core.

Our nature,
true nature,
exposed, our
selves, the ones exposing
that part of “me.”

But wee,
in size as one, alone,
but the light has shone, in
who we are;
that fog has lifted.

But dare say I,
of rules, of mind, or
irony, in this reveal;
it calls for some, over-sensed
to be nearly blind.

Everything
is revealed in time,
but for some,
they cannot
handle what they see.

Fog
Fog (Photo credit: rchughtai — “not very active”)
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