The Rising Poem by Vera Sidhwa

I rose out of my fog,
And saw my dreams come true.
The fog and I, our friendship grew.
The fog released me out of it's hands.

It could finally solve all my problems.
I could finally see,
What had become of me.
I was neither here nor there.

When I rose out of the fog,
I solved my deepest problem,
The central problem of my life,
That I wasn't sure of my self,
Why did have so much strife.

Then I came out of my fog,
And could see straight.