Title: Through The Mist Poem by ashok jadhav

(The speaker stands alone on a dimly lit stage, surrounded by shadows and faint whispers. Their gaze drifts toward the horizon, as if trying to pierce through a veil of confusion. Their voice is heavy with realization, oscillating between anguish and awe.)
I wandered—oh, how I wandered!
Through corridors of doubt, labyrinths of illusion,
Where every turn promised certainty,
And every path betrayed me.
I clutched at shadows, believing them substance,
And mistook echoes for truth.
But tonight… tonight…
The fog that once choked my vision
Begins to lift.
I see the faces for what they truly are—
Not the masks they wore,
But the flesh, the bones, the fragile hearts beneath.
I see the hands that extended in kindness
And the hands that struck in cunning—
And I no longer confuse one for the other.
It is a cruel revelation, yet beautiful in its cruelty.
For to see things clearly is not always to rejoice.
It is to witness betrayal and embrace it,
To acknowledge the lies without shattering,
To bear the weight of truth when it falls like thunder
And yet, stand upright, unwavering.
I see myself, too,
Not the self I wanted to be,
Not the self I pretended to be,
But the one I am…
Frail, stubborn, human.
And in seeing myself,
I find both sorrow and solace,
Because clarity does not spare the heart,
But it frees it.
Yes… I see things clearly now.
The illusions have no power.
The fears dissolve in the light of understanding.
I no longer stumble in the dark.
I face the world as it is—
Harsh, honest, unyielding.
And I… I am ready to meet it,
Because now, at last… I see.
(The speaker takes a deep breath, their gaze steady, their figure calm but resolute. The stage lights fade slowly, leaving only the echo of clarity in the silence.)