Staring at the horizon
the sunlight drifts away
like a breeze blowing a cloud
far, far away

As darkness comes out to play
like snow on a winter day
the tendrils of shadow beckon to me
with starlight in the sky; clear to see

I take a hesitant step ahead
not knowing where to go
the shadows drift around me
as my voice is lost in the echo

A haze sets in
an icy winds' grasp
tendrils of shadow and mist mix
creating a yin yang balance at last

The beauty of the night is strong
there are no words to describe it
for when I say these words to you
Only you can hope to imagine it

Green leaves, blinding light. A heavy mist to keep things right

Paint me with
Broad brush
Where fine lines
Would define
And find
What is not found.

I am not
Clean-edged,
Clear-cut.
I am vague
And ghostly;
Who can know me like this?

Can even God
Know the shape of mist?

Mystical morning mist
Interrupting our Kiss
Sunshine on a horizon
Tumbling over waves



Mist!

By Arcassin Burnham


Beauty in the mist,
lights are sparkling,
And on earth your little dreams come crashing down like
project apartments,
while they let us lay in fear,
they make money off black inmates,
then the public sees that **** and think
that's all we're good for is crime and hate,
what did the president say?
say hes gonna make america great?
Man you ain't **** a good job,
Are you even trying anyway?
thats another display of hate?
bet you people regret it,
and there no resets,
gonna have to take it in and embed it,
we might be heading for a  fake world war,
don't hear it cause I said just research it,

Guess that's why I wanna float on to another world,
I honestly think that they make God to have these strict
rules when in reality he really wants all of you up there,
aka high chair,
aka ladder,
aka stairwells express,
aka the life after.

Lingering in clusters around the idle seas
leaning inward dotted by
dried, them channels of hyacinth rivers
come like an old city emerging
out of the clouds like hundreds
of coloured cardboard boxes
packed away parted by unruly lanes
and withered lakebeds
and winding roads laden with lamps
the hunger for the sky has skived
away granite, now lakes
them empty quarries that grin
like the old grandmother
toothless, whitening hair thinned out
those forests now reservationed
rises a spire, aspiring for heaven
from this mud rolled windwashed earth