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,

bodies softened,

hard lines blurred.

Then, viewing all things through it,

may I never again see clearly.

May I see the world not divided,

sorted, sifted,

but joined, surrounded,

lost together in obscurity.

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…

(what?)

let me give in to the swirl, fold, whisper

and find myself taken in,

enveloped and

at last

lost.