Life's journey is always difficult and the way ahead is frequently blurred. Reminds me of a poem I wrote some time ago: JOURNEY ON This fog, more tangible than retinal codes, or a pulse along a nerve more solid than an invert image fashioned on a cortical screen, advises stealth. The way ahead, clear once known, escapes, dissipates amid the soft grey particles. Wayside landmarks wear an air of strangeness and no beacon points the way. Ahead a misty calligraphy wrought by an unfamiliar hand. This fog's breath has frosted the sheen of the scrying glass, wagged a warning finger at the travelling man, laid a masking veil across the path. The way ahead is wearisome, the senses strained, the movements taut and tentative and slow. But move we must, there's no way back, and forward we must go.