The Village Where Mists Meet The River

In a place like this long ago,

Or perhaps a place just born…

Where the mist meets the river,

There is a tiny village

Surrounded in the tranquility of a sacred cloud

On an island of quietude

Minds rest in the kiss of her rain

As the essence of her veil

Huddles over the people

The leaves weaving themselves with the fog,

Twinkle in the dawn

Plucking the heartstrings of the soul

And settling it in the safety of her silver threads

A foot that treads lightly on the earth,

Feels it's moist and papery debris

A stray soul from time to time finds them self

Only for a moment, before the sun is to rise

At the entrance to it’s pass

The distant call of its inhabitants

Beckoning the most placid of minds

And the strongest of will

Shall they walk the pass

With strong heart,

They too can feel the kiss of her rain

Walk in the soil of life

And hear the sweet strum of dew in the forest

However, be weary the soul

That cannot walk without fear

Finding themselves entranced

By the mirror of their wildest delusions

And murkiest dread

They awaken with the moon,

Pass and mist afar off the shore

Unharmed, however…

Forever greatly changed.