Foghorn

A foghorn sounds in the distant lands,

Travelling by wind,

Over decades of snow and fire,

To the modern man.

There's the feeling of apprehension in every step.

Knowing you're blinded,

But you have to keep moving.

Keep breathing in the pressing moisture.

To avoid being consumed by the fog.

Erratic Behaviour

Here's the song I wrote, to go with the poem =)