The Mist


and as the mist began to clear

i saw id walked three hundred miles

in the darkness of the night...

hills that rested far ahead

were now nowhere

nowhere in sight...

i remember thinking i was thirsty

but walked anyway...

now i was the river

which wound between the mounds of clay


if by chance i might have strayed

from the path i had once prepared...

i felt no more sense of loss

than breath lost in a sea of air...

everywhere is home to something

every time is now...

once i think i started counting...

thankfully i lost my count



Words by David Delmar. 2001



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