Lost at sea

It is Difficult to see
What is behind my back
On this rare foggy day of summer.
I am stick on the present
and in the lack of memory of this grey cloud.
The direction is list for a moment
But the lighthouse is always on
Out there.

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Out of the fog

Treasures are rarely measured
In weight or currency
And finding them is all
but a waste of energy.
I walk away with empty hands
and a book full of lessons and experiences.
Those words spent in a rush
With no intended importance
In an unplanned setting
Are the ones I will remember
And I will be grateful for
When my road will be clear
From this light -absorbing fog.