Shroud

“I will love the light for it shows me the way, yet I will endure the darkness for it shows me the stars.”
― Og Mandino

(A lone crow perches upon the pine in the heavy fog / Julie Cook / 2015)

A shrouded veil of monotone mist envelopes the Earth’s weary frame
As a grey wet cold penetrates down to fragile old bones.
Gone is the vision once so bright and clear
as tired old eyes now strain to see through opaque clouds.

Lifelessness, anointed and wrapped in flaxen linen,
is placed in the blackened emptiness of nothingness
While silence crushes down upon the living
A vacuum sucks away the very breath of Life
as the Earth spirals out of control.

A lone crow acts as sentinel
to the drama between Heaven and Hell
When the battle ensues for humanity’s soul,
Rain begins to fall.

As the fog rolls in, heavy and thick,
Figures eerily shift in the limited light
Specters of those who once were now drift across the land
The ground shakes and the rock splits
As a single ancient sheet is seen billowing in the wind.

Fog

It wasn’t the fog I minded, Cathleen. I really love fog. It hides you from the world and the world from you. You feel that everything has changed, and nothing is what it seemed to be. No one can find or touch you any more.”
― Eugene O’Neill

(heavy fog on a typical January day in Georgia / Julie Cook / 2015)

Mystical shroud, thick and damp, swaddles a drowsy new year.
Low and slow hangs the young Winter’s sky as she dips to kiss the ground.
Where does the earth end and the sky so wide begin?
Somewhere hidden in the grey whispers the Fog.