Heart Of The Matter
The Mist Whispers Slowly
How silent the morning,
How still is the sound,
How perfectly peaceful,
There is no one, around,
The mist whispers slowly,
I hearken to hear,
A word softly spoken,
A notion, you're near,
Hold my breath for a moment,
Step into the scene,
Peer into the distance,
I awaken the dream,
The mountain before me,
Permits me to climb,
I venture there slowly,
My scripture sublime,
And stepping on stones,
I scatter the past,
On tip toe, I go,
On and on and at last,
The summit seduces,
I am climbing no more,
I am flying, I'm falling,
I am yours,
Evermore.
Linda Harnett, ©2007
Comment On This Poem --- Vote for this poem
The Mist Whispers Slowly
The Mist Whispers Slowly
