So long in the mist, there were things I missed. Things I seemed to lack. The mist looked back.
Mountain quakes. Serious mistakes? Should I try to go through? Haven’t a clue.
Strange kinds of darkness. Unheard levels of quietness. Do I have a voice? Is there still a choice?
I’ve knelt before, I’ll kneel again. So will other men, but when? What is it the mist brings? I sense the need for wings.
Knowledge, it is fatal. I’ve known it since the cradle. Certainty – tied to a post. To exit, requires a ghost.
New mental imagery on the same stage. A blessing, or the old cage? What’d it say? Is it trying to speak? Another bottom, or is this a peak?
If it’s armor, it’s very thin. Not thick enough to call it skin. A veil to make it look alone. Just another mask of the Unknown.
The Infinite 