Once this mist clears
will I see the mountain ranges beyond
with dense treetops and waterfalls along the slopes?
Will I see the birds? The stars? The clouds?
The lighted windows of the town?
The bakery? The pavement?
The solitary finger tapping on the door?
The palpable darkness?
The darkness holding the shroud of mist?
Once this mist clears
will I see ice blue air and topaz sky
and curling smoke from the chimneys?
An eternity has festered within this dreary room
littered with hulking chairs
disarrayed desk, quotidian carpet, meek curtains
vacuous vessels, scruffy shelves and maudlin mirrors
surviving in silent cacophony of lifeless existence
When this mist clears
I want to emerge in simple words
that vibrate
like a trill from trickling faucet
swirl like steam from a coffeepot
float like dust in sunbeam
slip softly from lonely lips
and say I love you
to no one in particular
but to everything.
