I Doubt the Fog Will Lift

I doubt the fog will lift in days to come

My being I lay into this current stream

I’ve never seen a prodigal as a son

The light struggles to be but a gleam of

The water that carries me on the wings of doves

Bearing with me the prodigals I’ve never quite known

The stream it pulls me through the weight of loves

The sirens and maids are left without distinction

I bob, ascend, I bob, transcend, I’m lost

With cool, this current stream pulls to forgive

Without a home, I flow within, at last

The blind of faith they fly like doves, I strive.

Lay back - with faith we fly in streams we cry

This fog will lift, if in this stream we lie.