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A mist comes,
Drifting up the valley floor
Through the cool, sweet morning,
Slowly it turns to a wave of fog
From some long forgotten shore
And obscures
Any thought of ugliness,
With a sweet dew
That stretches its beauty
Like a spider’s web
Across wild roses.
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As the sun rises
It turns towards freezing
An inner fog
That hovers and invades
Your sense of self,
Loitering around the edge of awareness,
Covering the cracks
In walls we love to build,
Allowing us to believe that we too serve a purpose,
And with the advancing sun
Freedom comes walking through the haze
Like some fuzzy logic
Shining simplicity
Into Life.
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