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Journey Through the Mists
Journey Through the Mists
There’s a place I go
Where, even I do not know
When life cascades
My glass is full
About to slip from my control
No place of faith this
(Though faith’s place exists)
Where resides a small boy
Who for years comforted me
With fairy tales
Reality here was what you make
And my friend would take
The jumble round me
Mold it to my fantasy
And tell me it was so
Then came a day
I went for an extended stay
I searched but he was gone
Not gone but hidden
And fantasy turned to pain
Search party formed
Led by others trained
To blaze the path
To find that little boy
They had a map, but not success
I returned on my own
Repeatedly to search
But more to grieve
The loss of my friend
Who came no more
I returned not always to search
But to deny
This place which I surrounded
And encircled me
Until denial died
I returned not always to search
But to bargain
With him whom was hidden there
And wondered when no reply came
Until bargain died
I returned not always to search
But to rage
Reasoning it would be better
To never have come
Until rage died
Then came the day
I returned to accept
…and from the grass
Stepped my little boy
To see what I would do
No words
No motions
No deals
No pacts
No more
I turned to walk away
Knowing
I’d not return again
But no matter ……
He follows me
Where once I went to him
He comes to me
And my reality has become
His fantasy
© 3/21/00 Bart Breen
