The Mist


Is it cloud that falls so gently

When mountain top is kissed

Or does it rise from the valley

This cold and haunting mist


All pale shapes and grey shadows now

Sight rendered all but blind

Like whiskey drunk too fast somehow

A fogging of the mind


Unknown fears in every crease

The fears of never knowing

My will cannot command you cease

And keep my fears from growing


Being trapped in ghostly blanket

Suffered your icy chill

Yea sun would come I’d thank it

And temper failing will


If but scant rays could break rampart

And glimmer added hue

A warmth to spirit and to heart

Gained strength to see this through


Should graced light fail and hope abide

My journey will not stop

All my fears must be put aside

If goal the mountain top


So, taunt me now you evil mist

You cruel, sadistic haze

Battle you, my will exist

Earning my brighter days


Set upon me your eerie wrath

You may have chosen me

But I the chooser of my path

Will choose my destiny


10 Responses to “The Mist”
  1. beth says:

    Always look for the warmth of spirit even in the thickest fog

  2. A haze can sometimes hide marvels. Lovely work indeed my friend.

  3. kristianw84 says:

    I love this! Once you’ve set your sights on something, there’s no stopping you!

    This is a wonderful reminder that even in the dense fog, the light still manages to break through! Beautifully written, my dear!

  4. Look to the light!

  5. jonicaggiano says:

    Loved every stanza Brad, Gorgeous, Jonikens

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