Riddles in the Fog, Original Poetry by Thomas Martin Saturday


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Delicious veil,
where what is known
encounters
imagination ingenious,
weaving nether space
into the soft cold breath of the dead,
wraithlike,
hanging precariously just beyond reach
over playgrounds of dreamers
with second sight illuminating
cathedral-like lost worlds
in the mist
laying gently over the fields,
running valleys and streams
like eyelids heavy with sleep,
unready for the divine
appearing in that nether space
where what we fear,
what we hope for,
are the same dream
twice interpreted,
lightness bearing us
to a place
long sought,
just a tendril’s touch
of eternity sublime.

Copyright 2014 Thomas Martin Sobottke

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