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The Mist

written by: Brad Osborne

 

Is it cloud that falls so gently
When mountain top is kissed
Or does it rise from the valley
This cold and haunting mist

All pale shapes and grey shadows now
Sight rendered all but blind
Like whiskey drunk too fast somehow
A fogging of the mind

Unknown fears in every crease
Fears never of knowing
My will cannot command you to cease
And keep my fears from growing

Being trapped in ghostly blanket
Suffered your icy chill
Yea sun would come I will thank it
And temper failing will

If but scant rays could break rampart
And glimmer added hue
A warmth to spirit and to heart
Gained strength to see this through

Should graced light fail and hope abide
My journey will not stop
All my fears must be put aside
If goal the mountain top

So, taunt me now you evil mist
You cruel, sadistic haze
Battle you, my will to exist
Earning my brighter days

Set upon me your eerie wrath
You may have chosen me
But I the chooser of my path
Will choose my destiny

Brad Osborne

Brad Osborne

The author is American-born but world-travelled. His writings cover fiction and non-fiction, and cross most genres. Although his experiences and shared thoughts are not always unique, it is his hope that his words will bring comfort, joy, or insight to his readers.
Brad Osborne

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