Searching in seclusions, I walk against many grains.

On this day, clearly seeing through the fog I notice a twisted beast that once was a tree.

Pushing against the wetness I must try to move the only wall that keeps me away from understanding this scene.

In this seclusion I see what my mind projects, or what my will make.

Does this seclusion materialize what is a part of me or just a runaway frame of my imagination?

Why does the fog not move?

My hands are wet with the dampness and red with the strain of the fight.

Do seclusions not budge, do they surround with a prison of a strained mind?

Behind, another light, piercing through howling rain, seems close to my face.

I reach for it while holding off the wall of fog (it hasn’t moved, but I think it will),

As I stretch I find no end to this distance, although I feel it’s warmth on my face.

A seclusion of light at an unfathomable distance, not retrievable in time.

With these seclusions I fight, wondering if my strengths will fail.

The light does jest at me while the unseen unsightly beast behind the fog snickers.

Above me I hear the flutters of a beautiful dove in flight held out of my reach by a string arresting its graceful flight, it’s love out of my reach.

This seclusion in flight, seclusion in distance, and seclusion from light binds a mind into lifelessness.

Reaching for the dove, aching to experience its heart I strain more against the fog and the light.  Confused.

The dove stretching to me, the light so far away, a beast behind the fog that soaks me with a complete dismay.

I know not what to do, I look into another seclusion, perilously finding another mistake from which I cannot turn away.

To my right I see a clouded cyclone barreling down, it’s scream calling out to another seclusion, sucking me in, losing my grip,

To my left I see a question that is my life, surrounded by highlight, but blurred by decision. Panic.

Seclusions on all sides, I grab to stop all,

fight, struggle, push, grab, and flee.

The weight of seclusions rips the floor, I begin to fall.

The light clearly warms my face, the wind dries my dampness, the beast is beautiful, the fog no longer, the dove caresses my face.

The final seclusion now realized,

falling free, continually, and forever.

-LC