I’m staring into the new day, boundless, impenetrable, unpredictable, like the clouds of fog crawling across ground, snatching out and hiding again the most diverse landscapes. All therein is still hidden at the roots of the Earth, behind the veil of haze, beyond the known.
My train is waiting for something, and waiting am I, and waiting are the endless foggy fields where everything is possible. The fog gives birth to giants and gnomes, opening countless doors to the dungeons of the soul. The gnomes know where the gold is, but to hear them, I need to unlearn knowing.
The day when everything is possible. Do not know, do not judge, do not believe the customary. See the invisible: a glare of light hiding in the blackness of a roadside cross, a brilliance of diamonds dancing in the depths of the Earth, a blue gleam shining through a heap of clouds, a way out of the circle.
The day when everything is possible.
- My sincere gratitude to the Isle of Write Poetry Pond workshop for deep feedback and precise suggestions.
- Isle of Write logo courtesy of @pegasusphysics.
- Photo by Mike Kotsch on Unsplash.
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