The mist

From the land of the lost

the mist rises up

and there on the spot hesitates

debating, I bet, the merits or not

of knocking before entering

that once protected sanctum

deemed the core of my heart.

But unaware I can’t know how long

that spot was so occupied

before the sneak and creep

through all the gaps and black holes

created by the … creator.

I only know the shiver and chill

and how my view of all things grand

fades away and disappears

to not ere be seen again.

And oh, that overlay of mist

bears the grin of wickedness

and with its arms like tentacles

squeezes and suffocates

one who needs to breathe. 

So in the mist, the mist of the lost,

walk the scared and afraid

but how stupid is that;

mist eats the dead

and everything else has faded away!