There was the tree. Lost in a fog and alone, out in the open. Somewhat like myself. And though the air is heavy, you can still make it out. A tiny sliver of a path. Ready for whoever should wander it.
When I look at Lost In The Open it reminds me, that though I find myself often in the middle of a fog (one that is usually of my own making) there is always a path nearby. Here the path is easy for me to see. For I seem to enjoy my moods dense. Heavy with emotion. And Lost In The Open fills me with just that. A plethora of feeling.