Haze

Lucidity scatters to far reaches,

strewn across a mire of swirling mist.

There he trudges in pursuit of familiar gleams,

as the fog takes its toll.

It flaunts an ominous threat -

that shadows, relentless and steadfast, 

always steal the sun.

Steadily they erode all things, 

leaving him with tattered hands to grasp at secret fragments.

Without messages, he is no messenger.

The wanderer gazes at the path taken,

where the mist whispers its one certainty:

“The sunniest hours have all but faded.”

Author's Note

let me know what you think!