If there is no middle ground

Then the way is lost

It is hard to see when beaten down

Through the smoke

Know middle ground is there

In the haze

Right behind you

Just obscured

We can speak in absolutes

Hold volatile ideas near and dear

Speak of revolution

Ignoring the tears

We don’t know ourselves

Through the swirl

We cannot see ourselves

With it engulfing us

Sometimes it is better

To move slowly

Through the fog

Feeling that which is around us

Which we cannot see

Waiting until the fog dissipates

Instead of burning it off

Because that which we burn

We sometimes value most

Gene G. McLaughlin 2013