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Mist
January 12, 2008
I gaze out my window
Onto the ghostly mist
That swathes the lake.
The fog rises
Like spectral horses
Pulling Neptune’s chariot
Through the murky depths.
It was as though I could walk
Across the clouds
Into the heart
Of the ocean.
I could hear the Sirens calling
But I am not tempted.
I step lightly onto the road of fog.
Though I know not where it leads.
I walk into the center,
And through the hazy towers I see
A rainbow.
And at once I am reminded.
That confusion often gives birth
To beauty.
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