The fog is rolling in, the battle rages on


The fog is rolling in.

I sense before I see,

the clouded mist

that comes again –

coming again for me.

Wispy tendrils

whorl round my feet,

readying for war.

Creeping, crawling,

reaching, searching,

finding me once more.

I’ve naught but gossamer veil

to hide myself beneath,

I’ve no stronger shield,

no bullets, no bow –

I’ve no weapon to unsheath.

But lo, perhaps I do –

I’ve words at my command.

With parchment as my coffer

and quill within my hand,

an army lays in wait,

for me to take my stand.

Whispered words

become my battle cry,

they cover me like armor,

they give me wings to fly.

As the battle rages,

the fog is failing, falling –

raining down in pages,

scattered in defeat.

I lift my veil,

and watch

as the

vanquished fog


Crystal R. Cook

16 thoughts on “The fog is rolling in, the battle rages on

  1. And so the worded warrior stands
    Pen held in victory
    The fog, now penned
    Outlined in ink
    Has no choice but to flee
    No page was this, but battlefield
    No ink was this, but blood
    And tho the fog did its best to shroud
    The writer’s light did flood
    Its neb’lous and unwanted form
    In pixels there outline
    Its nefarious mass as it crept in
    In secret, but ere t’is defined
    Given context and shrunk
    To reasonable proportions
    Clarity has stripped it of
    Its powerful distortions
    Not this time shall it vanquish
    So creeps elsewhere to exist
    With nimble words the warrior won:
    The fog tried to ensnare, but mist.

    Liked by 2 people

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