By Taylor Wade

In the midst of fog
Penetrated by moonlight,
do I stand.

The smell of rain is strong,
Shifted afar and around
By the howling wind.

Mighty trees stir wildly,
As the wind howls
Shaking dew from off their leaves.

Clouds swirl in the moonlight,
Shining luminously through the trees.
O! what incandescence and delight.

Spurts of mist and dew,
Follow the wind unbound.
Were it not for the wind or trees,
Hear would I, not a sound.

Atop a mountain do I stand.
Surrounded by fog, illuminated by moonlight,
Amid the icy mist and wind,
Remains my stance steadfast.

Sound am I.
Still am I.
One am I.
At peace am I.

Bound are my eyes,
To the Lunar aura.
Bound is my heart,
In awe of beauty.
Sound is my mind,
Gazing into the tranquil sky.
Sown is my soul,
Within the purity of nature.
Forever am I one,
With the might
Of the everlasting Creator.

Sound am I.
Still am I.
One am I.
Pure am I.

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