mcglinnen

Sweet mist bellows forth
from dampened valley,
shrouding truth and lie
in equal measure.

Tis not the autumns touch
that is the cause of this vapor,
indeed it is but our desires
that drapes this gossamer veil.

Our sight but narrowed and blurred
diminished to what we dare not see,
we hear but a chord in the symphony
that is the music of life’s harmony.

And a lark sings the morning dove’s song,
a raven wears the gown of an eagle,
and upon mornings arrival we rise,
we pretend, we pretend this is life.

Tarry not my good hearted fellows
in this mist, this facade of the lie,
for our lives, each as precious as gems
tolerates not the mist in order to shine.

erikestabrook

I liked this poem so much,
the metaphors with the birds were so great