I always stumble through the fog...always.

When the weight of everything presses down

On this fragile bones of mine

When the air itself feels heavy to breathe

Through thick unseen fog, I stumble

And the path ahead vanishes.

That is when my white tower rises

Through tangled thorns and blinding dust

His arms wide open across this land

And within that unwavering shelter

I again find my steady pace

Until the dawn begins to break.