The mist gathers in milky clusters
And engulfs the mountains.
The rocks recede beneath the swirling smoke.
The trees stunned by the gentle breeze
Merge with the white of the mist and become one.
The sky descends like glory is assumed to come
And the clouds behold this like a reflection of their own selves
The onlooker listens to the crack of disappointment within
For there’s no more summit to behold
But a harrowingly beguiling sight of mist and mountains.