It was a haunting melody, but hauntingly relaxing.
It was a slow, Latin beat.
The man stood looking at the still water of the lake.
The waves and the breeze seemed to be in time with the music.
The full moon shined brightly overhead.
The waves and the breeze seemed to be in time with the music.
The full moon shined brightly overhead.
Hauntingly relaxing – like he was almost at peace. But why almost?
he had followed his soul, and his soul brought him to here.
And now – a fog.
And now – a fog.
There were a million silent whispers, but the wind carried no sound...just the hypnotic gentle lapping of the waves onto the shore.
he has looked deep, deep within his soul, for a sign, a clue, a note.
But there was nothing.
But there was nothing.
True lack of direction, with no definitive source of light. The fog played tricks with his eyes and ears and mind.
“Go ahead, scream! No one will hear you!” the fog said. “Scream, yell, kick, cry, laugh, sit, close your eyes, bury your head in your hands, look up, look down, turn around – you will accomplish nothing!”
So he sat down on the ground and looked up and said, ”take me. go ahead.”
And yet even then, nothing.
“why, oh why?’ the man yelled. “i have done everything you’ve asked!”
And yet there was still nothing.
Just a man and his music, sitting in a fog by a lake on a moonlit night.
Just a man and his music, sitting in a fog by a lake on a moonlit night.
And he sat.
And waited.
The sun rose and set and rose and set, all the time enshrouded in the fog.
All he hears is the music and the very faint sound of his own single heart beat.
Tha-thump. Tha-thump.
And waited.
The sun rose and set and rose and set, all the time enshrouded in the fog.
All he hears is the music and the very faint sound of his own single heart beat.
Tha-thump. Tha-thump.
he reached out to grab anything and just clutched thin air.
he goes to stand and his legs don’t respond.
he holds himself tightly and yet he is still cold.
he goes to stand and his legs don’t respond.
he holds himself tightly and yet he is still cold.
he wonders, what is my purpose?
And that wondering thought wanders into the fog.
a thousand days and a thousand nights pass,
and the fog is still there.
he has tried walking and running, to no avail.
And that wondering thought wanders into the fog.
a thousand days and a thousand nights pass,
and the fog is still there.
he has tried walking and running, to no avail.
So, the man sits in the dark,
defeated,
unable to move,
and closes his eyes
and listens to the music.
defeated,
unable to move,
and closes his eyes
and listens to the music.
