A fog awaits beyond the meadow, looming
dark against a fading sky.
Still against the death of breeze, awaiting
the gust which stirs the waking night.

Quiet surrounds the shadows, large
against the now fading moon, soon the
night shall blanket the earth, soon the fog
shall wander the beaten path, soon the gray
of night shall darken the worn path into
the brambles and briars beyond the wooden
hedge....

Buried there, there in this place of solemn
slumber, of rest that stirs upon nights of
the fog.Souls of those who waken to
wander, to walk among the stillness
of night’s eve.

Faint, one’s heart to climb the wooden walk,
to drop onto the hallowed grounds of
those that once rested. Faint, one’s soul that
they might be whisked into darkness,carried
screaming to their own place of slumber.

Tread lightly the night when fog blankets all
the earth and quiets the fowl and beast. Let
not the breath of fear expel, for beyond the
curtain awaits the guest, one who stands
beyond the gate of destiny...beyond the realm
of reality and dreams.