Tuesday 25 March 2014

The Mist

I am not the sun, for my touch won't pierce through these sheets of grey
And I am not the rain, for I'm not able to wash your doubts away
I'm no raging blizzard, for this fog can't be whitewashed with a coat of snow
And I am not hail, for I'm not able to freeze time over so you can sort out your thoughts
I am not lightning, for I lack the power to destroy all your demons
Yet I am not thunder, for I would never intend my voice to shake your bones

In this freckled mist, I am but a breath of air lingering on your lips to remind you how much you are alive.
In this thickened haze, I am the howling beyond the hills so you'll always know your way home.
In this blinding fog, I am the wind that can only be felt but cannot hold you, hoping  it might be enough.

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