<fog>

<fog>

 dripping footsteps

 in woods and hollows,

 swirling on the blacktop,

 alive with hidden fear

 of a self

 pining for its own loss

 <there>

  in the trees above the pond:

  who walks there

  trying to find me, seeing my end?

  <tree>

   if I was, I could grow alone

   like green leaves on a weathered trunk

   and learn how to dream,

   for memory seeks eyes

   as the bare trees scratch sky for light

   <moths dreaming of an empire

     of wool on fire \light>

    <abide>

     the flame inside,

     the window painted

     with our breath

     and playful scrawls

     <hidden>

      clothe my bones,

      unravel my true nature:

      the dirt I'd do - if no one saw -

      cleansed in the fire

    </hidden>

   </abide>

  </tree>

 </there>

</fog>