Reflections on living with MS

I've spent a lot of time in searching ways
to make some sense of that which God
in wisdom, trial or harsh revenge has dealt
to me and mine. The answers just escape
and drift away as do the mists upon
a lake in early morn. I reach for them,
and have a grip upon their slip'ry skins;
but just as fog cannot be held at dawn,
am left alone, my hands all damp with dew.