and the fog lifts

Rain falls in an uneven pitter patter
from a dozen or more trees,
and the fog makes the world seem a blank canvas.
An eerie squeak from the ropes of a hammock
joins the comforting sound
of the midnight waves meeting the shore.

An unfamilar feeling washes over me
as I fall into myself,
and into the the comfort of my solitude.
I am finally at home in my own skin,
in my heart and my mind, and most amazingly,
I am at home in this world I cannot even see.