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26 August 2008 @ 11:42 pm
Morning Mist  
This is a poem that just sort of came to me a few nights ago, and I was hoping for some feedback!

In the quiet morning, I stand alone.
The soft mist seems to still my heart,
Graying my eyes to the far sun
That has not yet risen.
My steps ring no music,
Do I even make them?
This gossamer web cocoons me,
I cannot see out.
The crescendo of light
Does not break my shell.
My eyes seem dull,
Like they have turned to glass.
Is my vision skewed,
Or am I finally seeing?
A pattering beat breaks,
Then halts.
The final song has stopped.
My glass eyes look down,
At the chest that does not rise,
Then at the body that is gray
To match the fog around me.
My hair a soft misty plume,
I grow faint.
I think I am fading,
But thought stops.
My form flows,
And gray meets gray
As I lose myself
In the morning mist.