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.



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