THE FOG

The stream course of the headlights, have difficulty crossing the fog banks that now abound in our unique and beautiful world, filled with black butterflies that portend death and desolation.

Dense fog that binds up their secrets to avoid vacuum and nakedness reigns behind, maybe not, maybe. Beyond it, perhaps, just the darkness with dim light of a world full of absurdities that says a lot and very little serious seekers seeking to wrest their intimate secrets, which also offer some useful healthy beings mutilated, incomplete , imperfect, and disqualified his inner ...

The headlights do not go far, its reflective mirrors very smoky and dirty they are. The mist covering everything goes on and on with its dense thicket which untamed jungle that frightens and scares at the same rosy future that song about him nobody could expect. Caterpillars in vibrant multicolored butterflies ever will become.

Ghosts, fears, sorrows, immense misery are the fog that envelops all the time this foreshadowing in cold silence, desolation from moment to moment toward a future that would have nothing new to contribute. Times hyenas and coyotes lurking hungry they are.

The headlights no longer enough, not strong penetrative, nothing crosses, nothing passes, ships and vessels filled today to derive human in the universe will ... Fog, mist, fog, dense mind!