Psimon Posted May 12, 2003 Report Share Posted May 12, 2003 Crossing the Mist ******************** Waters deathly still now, low she hangs her scored brow. The Mist drifts 'cross the mirror, passing said. Thin veil of purest white falls to her palms this night. Her heart besets her temple, strangled dread. Brings naught to her relief, adds rhythm to the grief. The softly stirring movement of the will. Unto the wood's worn flesh, his touch this branch has threshed. The cold hands take a grip, hold faster still. Oh, for sweet diversion from this last excursion. No creaking, splash nor stir is heard about. "And though The Mist flows free, it shan't be so for thee", as to her final torment she's led out. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Finnius Posted May 12, 2003 Report Share Posted May 12, 2003 Lovely stuff, and yes, it flows. It flows like silk over ice, or like a metaphor losing it's meaning, flowing downhill as the relevance to it's origional topic receeds. Very good. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Peredhil Posted May 13, 2003 Report Share Posted May 13, 2003 For me it started strongly, but something stumbled in the 3rd stanza, and again in the 4th. The 5th picked right back up again (although the meter changed slightly) and carried me home. well... you asked! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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