The Ethereal Mist

The Ethereal Mist

Chris Mumford

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Trekking through the ethereal mist, 

lost without guidance, not soon to be missed; 

 

How long have I been trapped in this most ominous wood, 

my voice grown hoarse, curdling screams do no good;

 

Silence has befallen the woods this dark eve, 

but deafening so, so I cant hear my self breath;

 

Night at-length has finally reached us, 

and it is darker than dark;

prodding and grasping at my outmost reaches,

knock against trees wrinkled bark;

 

“Don’t venture from the path, or you may never return”, 

words never heeded, to late now to learn;

 

If not for the ground,

I’d know not-up from down;

For how else could I know-up from down, 

when darkness surround;

 

It feels it’s been weeks since the sun has dared to come out, 

perhaps even months, more than a night no doubt;

 

My legs growing weary, and I need a place to rest, 

but deaths close at hand, perhaps all this a test;

 

Upon my awake, my legs start quake,

plagued by violent tremors,

hands cant help but shake;

 

 

What in the darkness surround,

by mossy oak I am bound;

perhaps never to emerge again,

I have finally been found;

 

For good or ill it seems rather plain,

what good can come from I being chained;

 

Fiercely I bother with my bindings,

but to no avail;

I’m trapped in this prison, 

my eternal jail;

 

But really Im no more, or less trapped than before, 

O’ what good is freedom, when your eyes wont make out the floor;

 

And really it may have all been an illusion of freedom; 

but i yearn for it now, to be free of this demon;

 

Soaked in cold sweat, 

my heart pounds in my chest; 

 

My fingers tip throbs,

I scream to the gods; 

 

But a voice answers near, 

“You wont find your God here”;

Your my play thing now, 

my only friend, my dear;

 

Most off putting was this familiar tone, 

Now more than ever I wish to be home;

 

It was a soothing voice, it belonged to a lady,

but just that shook my soul, driving me crazy;

 

Ripping and tearing,

trespassing in my mind; 

Fight back with all I have, 

fearful of what she may find;

 

What ill have I done to be deserving of this place 

 

Of course we both knew  we need not to re-trace;

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