Thursday, 9 April 2015


Willing it out of the mist,
That great grey swirling in the distance.
Hope pierces.

Seeing formless shadows,
Materialise, dance and disperse.
Creating new shapes,
From thoughts and desires.

A smoky light,
Blinks into existence.

Interlaced with silvery weaving threads,
It beams with a happy eye,
Confiding the future,
It carries in its wake.

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