Shrouded in a cloud, lost in a vapor sweated fog,
She roams the night that has become her life.
Shadowed, tattered remnants of a long ago time
When life was light and living sublime
And smiling came too easily
To a young girl who never ventured far from her plastic peace.
The world spins round, and comes again
To a tortured place where time begins
To swell and pierce and desecrate
The spirit’s most cherished space.
She stumbles through her tortured mind
She shifts through unclear, unholy memories
The tattered grist of stale and jagged thoughts,
Of hopes gone dormant beneath the sea
Of rotting delusions.
And once in every little while she catches a glimpse of light
Teasing through the smoke stained curtains of the night;
She reaches slowly toward the dancing beam,
Then recoils in fear and shame and guilt.
And so it goes, wretched years
Of a world of blindness drowned in tears
That have bleached the bones of her empty soul
Beyond all recognition.
And suddenly, with a fierce unbridled lunge
She bolts and rips the veil away;
Eyes squinting at first, to shield her from the morning sun,
And slowly, eyes open, hesitantly welcoming the warmth;
Arms cautiously reach out to embrace
The glistening majesty of the day.
She walks through fields and hills of light,
Now skips, now runs, now laughing bright;
And oftentimes she hears the faint and mellow wisp
Of her spirit’s sentinel singing the Song From the Mist.
© Kit Duncan, 2010
Song From The Mist
a collaboration between Rico Moore (keyboards) and
Kit Duncan (Piper Tweaked Whisperin' Whistle, key of C)