I stand in the middle of a fog,
where I can't see five feet in front of me.
All around,
there are clouds.

I feel no wind,
but that's what I hear.
I hear the screams of people,
saying "why?!"

Why what?
Is there a problem?
I see a woman now,
her baby dead in her arms.

Oh.

But then,
I see a twinkle of light.
A transparent baby is dancing towards the sky.
It's going to be okay.

Why can't she see?

That it will be okay.
That her problem is small.
That it won't matter later.
I go to tell her,

but she's gone.

I see a man now,
feeding his sick sister soup.
He is crying,
but she smiles.

Why can't he see?

That it will be okay.
That his problem is small,
That it won't matter later.
I go to tell him,

but he's gone.

I see millions now,
crying,
standing over the sick,
the dying,
crying over a broken foot,
the hungry,
the sad,
and I am watching.

I had these problems,
but watching them now,
they seem silly.
They are not problems.

They are phases.