Fog

What murky sway smothers the heart
when our souls are fogged by fantasy?
All the senses clinging to a mental fairy tale
hearing honey in every word
feeling joy in the shadows breathed
seeing enchantment in something ordinary
believing in our being heaven as come
even if the landscape is barren.

Writing the future with a quill of portent sighs
trusting with a quiver shaking the spine
that somehow the clay of possibility
can be molded by our passion's hands.

Then sunrise staggers into our illusions
having a face we saw as a star
in our cloudy swirls of sanguine sight.

Glass of pretense filled with delusion's wine
shatters when reality's gravity
causes us to lose our grip.

Slipping into aftermath hollow
of confusion and disbelief.

Until dawn of inner voice
lifts us to a sanctuary of light.
Sitting in the calm blossoms of truth
serenity's discovery gives warmth
finally able to gaze without squinting excuses,
exhaling tears and sorrow's fumes,
rejoicing from illumination's mentor
which allows one to view
distant horizons with a birth of prefect clarity.