wander, wonder and divide.
Through the mist, down the track,
for greater needs, or much less,
divide me here and tell me where.
Where must I go to find a place,
a place without the mist.
I wander wondering, divided by self,
shadows to the right and too the left,
shadows of too much light
seated in the mist tonight.
Down it comes, without a doubt,
the lit sky has no right,
no moon but all bright from the fright,
the fright that is not a light nor a sight,
but tight,
tight, yes tight,
the mist holds tight and laps up to me,
rain drops from leaves, and a cold wet mist,
a mist with no sight, just a 'light',
where it has no right- the mist licks,
smells and hides.
No place to hide but in the mist,
a mist that cannot hide but divide.
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