If this be a kindly mist
then I wish to surrender to it,
fall into its unclarity and darkness
as into a soft and giving sleep.
But it must be love:
it must love me like no other
and cause me to love in return
– to love the mist itself
and the shapes that rise in it,
hard lines blurred.
Then, viewing all things through it,
may I never again see clearly.
May I see the world not divided, sorted,
but joined, surrounded, lost together in
May the mist be thick enough to hide from
me my own hands –
left from right, right from left,
good from bad, right from wrong,
so that I can move unselfconscious,
unobserved and unnoticed.
Should I feel myself tugged at, toyed with,
pushed and pulled,
twisted round to face…
let me give in to the swirl, fold, whisper
and find myself taken in,