Mist

I watched the mist-

Walking down the hills,

The greenery being covered 

In its cool blanket and made invisible,

It seemed as if my vision

Was being erased from the farther end

Bit by bit, and the moment-

Filling in perpetual glee!

The clouds whispered the secrets

Where the mist was born 

From the mystic world,

Where it fumed out of that-

Wooden pot decorated with-

The intricate details of vine

In copperish colours…

The man with long beard-

And a purple hood-

With the long robe in wildflowers-

Decorated upon a bizzare green backdrop;

Chanting the incoherent vocals-

Where his eyes were green and kind,

He smiled, as the mist sublimed 

From the magic pot…

And the clouds' chatters -

Fell as drizzles on my face,

Dripping through the delicate ends

Of the red bottle brush flowers

Hanging down, and swaying in glee…

I wondered of that another world,

The parallel world in constant motion,

That the mere humans are unaware of…

The child in me giggled and danced-

Welcoming the mist and the rain

Into the depths of me…

The stream who knew all the secrets,

Flowed calmly in suppressed giggles.

Picture courtesy: 

https://pin.it/3Nmo68T