BLISSFUL MIST

The moon- the bulb that flint up the night,
In the dusky dale’s tide;

The stars they burn,
hydrogen and helium;

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The moon- the bulb that flints up the night,
In the dusky dale’s tide;

The stars they burn,
hydrogen and helium;

Appearing in cloudless portion of sky,
As the gloom stays malign;

You close your eyes,
And your minds become playgrounds of skating ice;

Introspection does the compass point,
Down the retro Isle of connective dots;

Lying in your color-mixed pallet,
Filling in those caret;

Into dreams you’ve always had,
Wet dreams where mermaids fly;

Time lost- hopeful to restitute,
Even if to prostitute;

Your ideas: in a ruffled geans,
In return, for the blissful mist.