The Mist

Can you find the truth within?

Photo by Goran Vučićević on Unsplash

I could not feel anything
save for the mist
encompassing the spires
its apparent weight like
a tangible illusion
I could see it
I could feel it
yet sat suspended in the air
as if hanging from the branches
preparing to conjure
more of the sounds I hear
in the wood
the yawning expanse
suffused with gossamer
saturated with the ethereal
now suffered the pinpoints
allowed by its shattered shield
burned away in sublime evanescence
left me standing in tranquility
yet with an uncanny perception
of what is to come.

©

Adam Ray Cronk
2023

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