Solid rock sliding out of misty eyes.
A deep blue yet to be found.
The cause amiss by mere gaze.
But sights unseen can bring arise to whys.
Was it lies?
Was it the mist beyond?
Relief too far.
Only darkness kneels near.
Rays of light unable to pierce.
Needless peril, yet needed more than the ether of life.
Sublime joy lies within these shrouds bound to blow.
The sun will rise.
A cocoon of resilience formed by the crystallization of torment.
A cycled doomed to be a loom for once again and again.
Nothing can satisfy for that is crowned by the self, to be notably noticed.
Recognition of every thing.
Hearing each note.
Live within fogs passing once again and again.
The self remain a statue - casted by the mind.
Fight to live not to be shrouded along by the mighty woes of the fog.
Or face avalanching into nothing tall - a strife of gall.
Dec 4, 2025
Dec 4, 2025 at 4:25 PM UTC