Written by: Mark Norton


This fog, this mist, this evening’s shadow
Is quiet, desolate and still;
But eyes peer forth to starlit places
To watch the falling rain
That seems so ghostly cold

Tranquil abide these moments in time
When silent is the patter of the rain, 
And blessed remains a solitary voice
As it’s mystery fades away  

Desire held tight our lost intent
To warm the mountains crests,
Yet distant thought of distant lands
Are sacrificed to the sound of the rain

Whisper the worth of our own serenity, 
And hold tight imaginations fate, 
While hope and wisdom are momentary
Condemned to the quiet rain

Frail the silent darkness dies  
But still the raindrops fall;
And how mysterious our future stays  
Uncertain, unknown, unfelt
In the cold, descending rain

                   By M. Norton