fog
cold, blue, still spirits
The ancient walls of the fortress
obscured, gradually

then opaqued
by the fallen
marching on through the present,

to eternity.

He is enchanted,
He enchants.
His eyes glaze over,
mine too…
mesmerized by the layers and layers of time
swept into a hurricaine of souls,
ours now entangled within the knot of
beautiful and tragic,
forgotten and celebrated
history
in which we are involuntary members

He saved me
from monotony
from the spirits
from myself.

We bask

in history
in mine
and his
and in ours

I’m enchanted.
But not by those
rogue, dancing spirits
anymore

The fog lifts

and
all I see is

you