THE FOG

A TOWERING PILLAR OF SMOKE AND OF FOG

FROM DEEP UNDER THE GROUND STRETCHING UP TO THE SKIES

THE HOWLING OF WIND IS ITS SOLE MONOGLUE

LOOKING DOWN ON THE WORLD WITH A MILLION EYES

ITS SHADOW-CLOAKED FORM YOU CANNOT COMPREHEND

A MILLION QUESTIONS THAT SCRATCH AT YOUR BRAIN

WITHIN ITS FOG ARE ALL THOSE SURELY CONDEMNED

TO OBSCURITY, LOST, THOUGHT OF NEVER AGAIN