I have walked through fields of fog. Have you? A fog of the heart; when blindess is overwhelming and you find yourself reaching, groping into a deceptive mist. I have walked there. The minutes pass, the hours, the months; hoping it will clear.
There is no compass that can bring you out; it is a waiting. Sit and feel it settle around you. Sit and let it soak you with its uncertainty; let it penetrate until you think you will die from exposure in the empty land of questioning.
It will clear. I can't imagine how, or when. But something tells me in my dampened soul that it will; and all will shine bright on the flowerless fields.