Monday, June 15, 2015

Walking in the Fog

The fog enfolds in bold suspended drops
The forest of my focus, which I flog
Against -- these barriers to sight, these stops
Of light, insights I'm wearing like a bog.

Such wet weight is my woe -- I cannot know
With blankets binding, blinding -- I can't feel
With sharpness in the damp I feel below,
Above, around me, ground me, make me kneel.

I feel a worm, an eel, a serpent slide
Away across my feet -- a slug, a snail
Spreads slime to climb to try to find a bride --
I cannot see and trip along the trail.

But when you're with me, all this burns away --
The sun enlightens and I want to stay.

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