The exact middle – A poem

escapril day 2: the exact middle

I awoke one day
To the soft knock at my door
Of a deep darkening fog
Where there wasn’t before.

My eyes strain from their sockets
To see what they cannot
From exactly the middle
Between knowing and not.

My thoughts are an echo
They ring in my head
And my feet reach the end of
Where they know how to tread.

The fog whispers to me
And with a gentle breath,
Says ‘the clouds will not move
Until you take the next step.’

A silent hand on my back
Pushes me into the smog
And I watch the world become
Clearer, and equally not.