Myths and Mist

The rain will never cease never rest a peace, the misty dew a hydrated fog, rolling upon open plains til the horizon's crease. Beyond the unseen and what's never been, were the wild faeries dance in the trees, and the nights are full of life and the dawns serene. All the magic and myth descend like mist, nothing but ourselves in this dream. Night's dark is death as we nestle around the dragons breath, owls hoot who as crickets chirp and chew, living within your length and breadth. The lizard crawls as our sleep falls, insects burrow and cranch under leaf and branch, a forest full of mating calls. All is real to touch as if its living as such, until the light breaks through crumbling walls. Martin Eoghan 02/05/22