The Weather of the Mind

I saw a foggy figure
That was swimming in the wind.
The air was pushing back on him
And ripping at the skin.
So bent beneath the heavy rain
That hammered on his thought,
He'd lost himself in storminess
And shiny days forgot.
He was digging through the darkness
In that chunky soup of night,
And crawling on two legs
To a distant muddy light.
But that glow was barely trying,
And it's seeker nearly blind,
Light was soon to be digested
By the weather of his mind.
Then coat was thrown out in the wind,
He gathered up the night,
Embraced it like an only friend
And held it to him tight.
He gave himself to burning cold.
He drank up all the rain.
His clothing sagged with sorrow,
But no longer soaked in pain.
Sometimes giving in becomes
The only path that's sane,
And a hardship is much harder
If we treat it like a chain.