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!