The Haze

Gabor Balogh, fotosparos.hu

I struggle 
to figure out
what is it I seek
what will put zest
back in my chest;
I end up slithering
down a slippery
path.
It aches me to
feel nothing 
really touch
inside, though
outside is a lot.
It's the haze that
I ought to hold
with both hands
and take into my heart
and let it slither
down to my guts
Then whatever
shall be
will be.